Tempest: Modern Age
by TolkienScribe
Summary: Part 1 of "Tempest At War". Thranduil Oropherion lives his life as a Homicide Detective in NYC. Everything is going smoothly until unexpected visitors arrive on his doorstep and he is needed to play his role as Mirkwood King again. NOT AU. Dagor Dagorath.
1. Chapter 1

**TEMPEST AT WAR**

**Disclaimer: **Not one Elf, man, or modern world.

**Rating: **T for hard war; if faint of heart, then I suggest not reading.

**Summary: **Thranduil Oropherion lives his life as a Homicide Detective in NYC. Everything is going smoothly until unexpected visitors arrive on his doorstep and he is needed to play his role as Mirkwood King again. Not AU. Dagor Dagorath Story. Part of Green Leaves Universe.

I wasn't happy with the previous version of this story, since I grew very much as a writer between then and now. This story, is therefore, being rewritten.

Enjoy!

* * *

**TEMPEST: MODERN AGE**

**PART 1**

* * *

**YEAR 2014**

**Chapter 1**

_New York,_

_USA,_

Everything in his apartment reminded Thranduil of his kingdom.

The colours of the living were earthy green and brown. There was a crocheted afghan draped over the ruddy brown couch that reminded him of the seamstresses hard at work in his halls. It was made by no seamstress, but rather an old kindly woman who lived next door and took crochet as a hobby. The curtains were light green in colour, accented with dark green leaves embroidered on it. His love for swords didn't fade; a real sword with blunt edges rested on its case on top of the short bookshelf in his living room.

The kettle whistled on his stove. He pulled it off and poured the water. He added crushed coffee beans to the water, and swirled the water with a teaspoon until it turned dark. He picked the remote lying nearby.

He switched on his stereo; lively music filled the apartment.

Thranduil picked up his mug of black coffee and ambled towards an open window. A smile graced his features as he leaned against the side of the window, letting the breeze caress his skin and hair. He was ready for work; dressed in blue full-sleeved shirt, sleeves rolled back to his elbows and finely creased pants.

He smiled down at the sight of his wedding ring, adorning the index finger of his right hand. Among the other rings he customarily wore, the marriage ring was lost but only Thranduil knew of its significance.

He never intended to stay this long Arda Marred once he returned from Aman. But he couldn't resist. Time brought about many changes. He watched the world change. There were skyscrapers instead of short houses, large cities carrying millions of people instead of small settlements of hundreds, vehicles that drove themselves instead of horses. He looked up at the sky, bright clear blue without a single cloud in the sky. He remembered when he first took a plane for traveling. It was a breath-taking and exhilarating experience.

He took another sip and gave a silent sigh of satisfaction. He rested his head against the edge of the window and closed his eyes. He relaxed comfortably.

The sound of his cell buzzing ruined the moment. He gave an inward sigh and checked the ID. He grinned when he saw a familiar name. He answered the call and pressed his phone against his ear.

"Can't I just enjoy my coffee in peace and quiet for once?" Thranduil asked before the person on the other end had even the chance to reply. The person on the other end of the line chuckled.

"I know you never like to miss a murder." The voice said. It was undoubtedly masculine, with an American accent and a droll of someone who was raised in the harsh environment of the Bronx. Thranduil took a small sip before asking.

"Who died?"

"Don't be so happy about it." The man chuckled.

"In our line of work, everyone's dead. We can't be grumpy about it, Riley," Thranduil said dryly. He continued before Riley said anything. "Where is this murder?"

"Come down Central Park and you can't miss us."

"Okay, great. I'll be right there."

* * *

_Paris,_

_France,_

A golden haired Elf sat on a table outside a café. He was handsome to look upon, tall and lean, with muscled arms showing from his half-sleeved white polo shirt. He wore brown pants. He sat back in his chair, his back facing the café. His light blue eyes wandered over his surroundings with unusual alertness.

He wasn't alone. He had companions with him, men and women who were just as young and beautiful as he was. They were ten people in total- six women and four men. Grouped together, they were intimidating because of their chic looks. Sitting on wooden cushioned chairs surrounding polished wooden tables made them look as if they were picture from a brochure.

"We are sitting out in the open." The man sitting to his left addressed him. "Legolas, this isn't safe for us."

Legolas looked up and pocketed the fake ID card in the back pocket of his pants. He looked up at the Elf who spoke to him. He wore his black hair short, but slicked back from his face. His face had sharp lines, making him look stern and harsh. At the moment, his face was morphed into worry.

"I know," Legolas said softly. "I am well aware, Fion. But they'd think twice in attacking us in such a crowded street."

"He is right." Dorián, Legolas' close and childhood friend, said. Dorián sat on the other side of Fion. He was dressed in blue shirt and jeans, and he was the only one among the males who didn't cut his hair short. His black hair was tied in a pony, trailing across his back. He brooded with his arms crossed over the table and his chin resting on his arms as he watched the tourists pass by with a forlorn expression.

He looked up when the waitress came with a large tray laden with full steaming cups of coffee. He passed her a small, wan smile as she began serving them before returning to his thoughts. One of the women reached over, took his coffee and added the sugar according to his taste. He threw distracted smile towards, and flicked a stray strand of her silver hair back her ear. The woman answered it with a matching smile of her own, before she gave him a pitying expression.

"It'll be alright," she whispered to him. Legolas smiled bleakly and traced the rim of his mug with his finger. With his other hand, he flipped the fake identification card idly between his fingers.

"This place is so different."

He looked up, at the young-looking woman sitting across from. She was black-haired, pale-skinned like him. He could see the ghost of his own features on her. A marriage ring flashed on her index finger, similar to the one his father wore.

"It is, mother." He conceded. He uncrossed his legs and took his coffee. His numb fingers warmed around the cup. Legolas took a slow, luxurious sip from his coffee. He gave an inward smile. The coffee was bitter to the taste, with barely a quarter of a teaspoon of sugar in it. It was just the way he liked it. He remembered having trouble sweetening his coffee, long ago when he lived in Ithilien Forest, where Faramir introduced him to coffee. They used honey instead of sugar, and since honey was sweeter, there were times when Legolas mistakenly added too much to his taste.

"It has indeed, Arodien," an Elf with a narrow face and eagle-like movements assured Legolas' mother. His name was Thorontur, an Elf who once served Oropher before serving Thranduil when the kingdom fell on him. "It is not easy to believe this is the same place where the Elves once walked, where the Ents once lived."

"Where the Dwarves' hammers rang, and the Hobbits lived peacefully in the Shire," Legolas murmured. "Yes, it is difficult indeed to imagine it that way."

Time changed Legolas in many ways. He went from a curious child who found himself in difficult places to a young adult fully capable of mischief, to a responsible prince, and later to the mature role of a father and husband. That was the reason why he left behind many of his antics.

At the moment though, there was an entirely different reason why they didn't indulge in their usual light banter.

Hunted.

That's what they were at the moment. They lost their pursuers far behind. But every minute they spent here in the café was cutting their time shorter. The wake of danger didn't leave them yet. All the men were armed. Even the women bore weapons of some sort.

They needed to take a flight to a destination where they hoped to receive some form of aid.

He felt a brief touch on his hand and he looked. Életh, his wife and love, held his hand. Her light blue eyes met his in concern. She tugged on the cloth covering his shoulder and pulled him close to her lips. Understanding what she wanted, he leaned close and ducked his head to listen.

"Are you sure he will help us?" Életh murmured softly in his ear. Legolas nodded and pulled back a bit to look at her.

"I am sure," he assured her. He twisted his hand free and squeezed her hand in comfort. "We weren't sent here to do nothing. Our allies will have to help us."

Életh's pale, smooth forehead creased slightly. She was beautiful among the standard of Teleri. She was tall, very slim, with soft curves and long silver hair braided in a single loose braid. For all her femininity, she was quite capable of protecting herself. She was dressed in loose white camisole and white jeans with brown boots. Their fingers laced together.

"What of Aman? Your grandfather can hold on for so long."

Legolas' assuring smile faded. His brow furrowed slightly. His head lowered, his thumb absently stroking over the back of Életh's hand.

"He'll be fine." He said at last. "I am sure, that with his resources and the combined help from the Valar and the rest of the Elves, we can make a stand in Aman." He hesitated. Even his assurances sounded weak to his ears. He cleared his throat. "He'll be fine." He said, more firmly this time. "All of them will be."

Életh rubbed her free hand over their clasped ones.

"And what of your father? How will he react to us being here without him knowing?"

Legolas laughed and leaned back in his chair. He lifted his clasped hands and placed his hand around his shoulders and her clasped hand in the front.

"Oh," Legolas said, chuckling. He pulled his wife close and rested his cheek against her temple. "Don't worry. My… 'Old man' can handle himself."

* * *

_Crime Scene,_

_Central Park,_

_New York._

"Thank you." Lee said, grabbing the coffee straight out of Riley's hands. His partner said nothing but merely pulled out another coffee from the coffee tray resting on the roof of a car. He had learned some years back that Lee would take coffee, regardless if it was for him or not.

"You thankless-"

"I thanked you." Lee said, throwing a grin over his shoulder. "Now, come on and show me why I had to wake up so early."

"We have two victims, found by one of the cleaners here. Female victim's name is Lisa Harding, and male victim's name is Esposito Abate." Riley said, walking beside Lee. "Man and woman found dead, so far no witnesses turned up."

"God, this coffee is terrible."

"I drank from it." Riley said, grinning. Thranduil narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"Did you spit into it too?" He demanded, with slight humor in his voice but Riley continued to grin.

"It is quite possible." Riley drawled.

Making a face, Thranduil thrust the coffee back in Riley's hands and took the untouched one from him. Once he was assured the coffee was untouched by taking a sip, he changed the subject.

"And where are these two victims?" He asked.

"Over there." Riley pointed. Thranduil sobered. The crime scene was placed in a small cluster of trees, all taped together by spreading yellow tape. They reached it quickly, ignoring the bystanders and passed through the crime strip, pulling out their badges before heading into the crime scene. He spotted a young, healthy woman with tanned skin and long shining black hair tied in a ponytail, kneeling beside one of the victims.

"Riley said something about you not willing to leave your bed. Is there a reason?" she asked, looking up after greeting him.

"Don't you all have anything better to do than to prod in my personal life?" Thranduil retorted. The Hispanic doctor only shrugged.

"It makes good gossip." She replied and Lee shook his head, looking down.

"Talk about romance that kills," Lee remarked dryly, kneeling down before the two victims under a shade of a tree. A man and a woman lay side by side on a spread sheet. Thranduil looked around. "What happened?"

"There are no external wounds, but they did eat together. There is a bottle of wine and some homemade pasta-"

"A way to a man's heart is through his stomach?" Thranduil interrupted. Monique shot him a weary look.

"Ten years and you still stick to your puns. But yes, and it was probably what killed them both."

"Also explains the lack of witnesses." Riley spoke up. "We do not have any cameras in the area but I will see what cameras they can pull up for us. And it was no robbery. Both of them had their valuables and they missed that pretty gold bracelet on the victim's wrist. And the guy's watch could give some cash too."

"Time of death?"

"Somewhere from 3 to 5 a.m."

"Okay, let's get hold of next of kin and see what this is all about."

Once they reached the precinct, Thranduil declared he needed another cup of coffee.

"I don't know why I bother bringing you one when you always complain about it." Riley said.

"Because you know I will not be capable of civilized speech before it."

Riley gave a grunt.

"You are too sour, ya know. You always have this fixed schedule. Someday, some serial killer could kill you because of how you live. Hell, I would kill you because how you live." Thranduil's brows rose up at that statement.

"I will have that cup of coffee now."

"I am telling you, you need to liven up a little." Riley said to him, offering Lee a second cup of coffee before sitting by his desk. Thranduil nearly shook his head. This was one argument they had almost every day.

"I am living." Lee replied mildly. He took a small sip, and let the bitterness sooth him. He looked up at his friend and added, "Every day, in fact. I try not to do otherwise."

"No, no, no." Riley said impatiently. He was so burly and, well, huge that he often reminded Thranduil of the men of Rohan. Riley waved his pen at him. "You need to live more than just like that, man. Go to the clubs, find yourself a girl. Maybe even settle down a bit."

"I am settled," Thranduil protested but it was lost as Riley continued, heedless of him.

"Speaking of which, my wife has this amazing friend-"

"I am not interested." Thranduil interrupted, loudly this time. He held up his mug and took another sip.

"No, well I can look for someone else… I know a guy-"

Thranduil took in a hasty gulp of hot coffee, scalding his tongue. He choked and sputtered. He turned and leaned against his table as he struggled to get himself under control. Riley started to thump him hard on his back.

"Riley," Thranduil gasped. "I know you mean well but stop helping me."

"Come on, man. You have to have something to spice up your life. Look at your apartment, for example. It's too clean and tidy. Now, this friend of my wife, Clara-"

"For pity's sake, I am married!"

"Really?" Riley gave a disbelieving snort. "And who is this person?"

"A wife," Lee said through gritted teeth, catching onto Riley's hidden meaning. "And I am well happy with her, thank you."

"I am telling you, if this is your imagination or it's a doll-"

Thranduil burst out laughing.

"You are being ridiculous." He said, still chuckling. "Come on, you idiot. We have to get to work."

"Detectives," one of the policemen called up to them, "Someone here for you two."

They both glanced up and caught sight of worried-looking parents standing and staring at them. Just then a young woman entered, clutching a handbag in anxiety. They made eye contact and the father lurched at her, both hands spread out.

"YOU! This is your entire brother's fault! He was no good for my daughter!"

Several things happened at once. The mother sobbed and tried to get hold of her husband. Lee and Riley shouted at the guards to restrain him. The young woman dropped her bag in fright and retreated hastily.

"Richard! Please!" The mother pleaded just as two men wrestled to get father's hands behind his back.

"You take the girl and I will handle the parents." Riley said. Recognizing what Riley meant, Thranduil rolled his eyes.

* * *

_La Rochelle,_

_France,_

Legolas smiled widely at the man with a stooped back standing a few feet away from him.

He was a tall, thin man with a sloping back. He wore a trimmed silver-blond beard close to his jawline and matching hair cropped short just beneath his ears. He stood with quiet air, studying the papers in his hands while the men worked in front of him, gathering the cargo on of the ships needed. Legolas stepped forward confidently to the man, who seemed so different from his usual robes.

The man barely glanced his way before returning his gaze to his papers. He spoke something in fluent French, turning a paper to read its back contents.

_"I do not know what you have said, my friend."_ Legolas replied in Sindarin. At the sound of his voice, the 'man' gave a violent start, almost losing his hold from his papers which would have been drastic. The sea wind blew hard and fast. "_But I am not your regular customer."_

Círdan looked at him in surprise, mouth agape.

_"You-you-"_ It was most satisfying to see Círdan, who had seen so much in his lifetime to not be so easily rattled, was so speechless.

_"It is a long story."_ Legolas interrupted. "_I will be willing to tell you all, but tell me first; do you have some ship we can borrow to get to the States?"_

* * *

_NYPD,_

_New York,_

"So what'd you get?" Riley asked.

"What'd you get?" Thranduil asked in return.

"Fine, I will go first, but tell me; did she swoon when she saw you?"

Lee threw a file at Riley, who ducked.

"Easy! Easy!"

"Pray ask me again." Thranduil said, gesturing at his phone.

"Shaw's not gonna like you throwing things around."

"Well, she will turn a blind eye to it. I am the only one around here she tolerates."

"Ah, cellphone's buzzing." Riley dug into the back pocket of his pant and glanced down at it.

"Wife's asking if dinner is still on tonight." Riley said, glancing up from his cellphone.

"Tell her it is on." Thranduil replied, shifting through his papers. "Tell her she doesn't have to worry. I will make sure it will edible." Riley gave a grunt. "Alright, let's compare notes."

"So, the girl was the sister of our male victim. Said he used to hang out with the rough sort of crowd, eventually got mixed up in a gang before he met our female victim. Changed his life around for her; left drugs, left the gang and everything of his old life."

"Parents of the female victim didn't like him." Riley said, checking his own notes. "Said they couldn't forget his past and they didn't want their daughter be mixed up with that kind, blah, blah, blah. Oh, here is something interesting. Dad's a businessman and a good one too. It wouldn't do for his future image if his daughter married some reformed thug."

"Interesting. He has motive; could he be our killer?"

"3-5 a.m., he was out late with his wife at a party. Girl must have snuck out."

"Where was this party?"

"It was held by some businessman," Riley said, handing him a paper where he scribbled the address. "Let's go and see if they know anything."

They did go there, a quaint house full of expensive things and gaudy colors, but they found nothing, except the father was not their killer.

"Time to check up on this gang, then," Thranduil said.

* * *

_Thranduil's Apartment,_

_New York,_

Thranduil placed the rice in a dish and shifted it into the oven to keep it warm and dropped halves of peeled almonds in sizzling oil on a frying pan. The mouthwatering aroma of freshly cooked food wafted in the air before it made its escape through the open window in the living room.

"I can't believe you cook."

"It has nearly been ten years since you have been friends with me." Thranduil pointed out.

"Yes, but," Riley gestured at him helplessly. "You cook!" He gestured at Thranduil as he shuffled out the fried almonds into a tray. Thranduil chuckled; the sizzle of oil rang in his ears. He never cooked, not even when he traveled with his comrades.

"I live alone- as you can see," Thranduil said with dry humor. "I needed to learn to cook my own food."

"Get a girlfriend then," Riley said. Thranduil gave a weary and slightly annoyed sigh. But Riley continued, some mischief lighting up his eyes, "OR- or- some hot housekeeper to clean up the apartment."

"Riley, I am handling some very hot oil at the moment, and I am inclined to spill it in your direction at any moment."

Instead of feeling offended, Riley laughed.

If Riley was fire, Thranduil was ice. When they met, Riley was hot-headed, slightly bitter, with little to lose and Thranduil was the complete opposite. For Thranduil, he lived for so long and had so much experience that very little fazed him. Because of their opposite personalities, they made the perfect team. But it was Riley's marriage and children that really settled him down.

Thranduil threw his friend an additional wry look before returning his attention to the frying pan. Of all the friendships, he never expected that he would be friends with a man. Even Bard was just more than an acquaintance.

"Yeah, but-" Riley gestured at him helplessly. "You cook!"

Thranduil said nothing, smiling as he returned his attention back to his cooking. He had never cooked, when he travelled with his guards or with his Warriors. He had taken trivial tasks around the camps, knowing it developed camaraderie between him and his people, even if it meant shoveling out the privy. They could hear sounds of a cartoon over the sizzling of the cooking.

"Since when do you keep cartoons on your laptop?" Riley asked, glancing where his twin sons were lying on their stomachs, watching Spiderman on Thranduil's laptops.

"Since I have you for a friend… and you got married… and got kids." Thranduil said, punctuating it by work here and there, placing plates on the counter, picking the almonds to dry on a tissue.

"I get the idea."

Riley's youngest, a pretty girl of five years, ran into the kitchen. Thranduil immediately picked her up. Her wavy blonde hair swung when he did.

"Oh, no, you don't." Thranduil said, making her squeal in delight as she dangled in his arms. Thranduil bounced her lightly as he carried her out of the kitchen. "You are going back into the living room. I am not used to having kids running around in my kitchen. Shoo!" Thranduil lowered her into the living room, in a circle of her toys, before coming back.

Cassie was at the balcony, laughing and talking on her cellphone, hand resting on her hip.

"You know she wanted to bring over a friend or two." Riley said. Thranduil looked up, alarmed.

"Relax," Riley said. "I talked her out of it."

"Good," Thranduil said, feeling relieved.

"Her friend Wendy has been asking for you. You haven't messaged her ever since you went with her on a date."

"I did NOT go on a date with her." Thranduil said sharply. The topic was a touchy one. "It was a blind date. I was an unwitting party. I had nothing to do with it!"

"She still doesn't like you."

"Not my fault," Thranduil said. "Besides, why didn't you come to my defense when Cassie set us up?"

"I thought you would like her company!"

"For someone who picked a remarkable woman for a wife, you have a poor taste and that is why you are not my wingman."

"BOYS!" Riley roared. He would have made Thranduil jump in surprise if he hadn't been so used to Riley's 'father' tone. "You better not be on the Wi-Fi!"

Thranduil shook his head. Riley, by all means, was an attentive dad, but with firm rules. The fear of his children growing up the way he did sat deep into Riley's heart.

"They aren't." Thranduil said soothingly. "I disconnected it and it's switched off. Relax."

"You don't have twins, Lee." Thranduil burst out laughing. Riley mistook it as if it was on him but Thranduil remembered Elrond's frustrations when the twins were growing. "Why is it so silent?"

Cassie said a quick goodbye and hurried to her sons. She disappeared into Thranduil's bedroom for a moment before reappearing.

"They only turned the volume down." Cassie said, returning to the kitchen. "Do you need any help, dearie?"

"No, thank you." He pulled out the rice and placed it on the counter, taking out the almonds to dry on a tissue before sprinkling them on the two separate forms of gravy he made. Riley, Cassie and Thranduil nearly well had the same tastes, with a great love for Italian and Chinese cuisines.

"Dig in," Thranduil said, removing his cleaning cloth and habitually cleaning the counters. Cassie helped herself first.

"Oh," Cassie gave a grateful sigh, taking in a bite and savoring it. "This is just so good."

"Thank you," Thranduil executed a faultless bow worthy of a king before sitting down and making his own plate. "I am glad you enjoy it."

"Somebody else cooks instead of me. Of course I am enjoying it." Cassie said. "Why not leave your job as a detective and become a chef?"

"There are very few talents I have, Cassie, and cooking is definitely not one of them."

"What he means that he likes action more," Riley said. "Sometimes the way he pushes himself into a fight is like he is ready to go into war." Thranduil grinned.

"I can't help it I am spoiled for a good fight." Thranduil remarked. "Although, I think I think guns are overrated." Riley snorted.

"That you do," Riley said. He turned around and addressed his wife. "Did you know, one time when we were chasing some juveniles, he places his perfectly loaded gun in his halter and fights them with a knife-"

"I didn't like the thought of pulling a gun on teenagers just because they made bad choices." Thranduil said mildly.

"Oh, no, even when they had guns at you," Riley argued.

"Yes, well, as you said, they were juveniles." Thranduil said. He popped an almond half into his mouth for effect. The almond crushed in his jaws. "They made a beginner's mistake; they stood too close." Riley raised both hands for concession. Thranduil bent and placed the dishes in a line on the counter.

"Dinner is served," Thranduil said. He threw a playful wink at Cassie. "And I assure you, it's good."

"As long as I don't have to cook," Cassie said with a warm smile. Then she added, "And the meal is free."

Thranduil laughed. Cassie entered the kitchen and patted Thranduil once on the shoulder as she passed him.

"Remember to take the leftovers with you." Thranduil called after her. The petite woman stood on her tiptoes as she opened Thranduil's overhanging cupboard and pulled out a stack of plates.

"I'll negotiate after dinner," Cassie said.

"We'll take it." Riley remarked. Cassie threw a mock scowl at him as she laid the dishes on the table. Thranduil felt someone bump against his legs. He looked down and found Dawn's arms wound about his leg. Dawn looked up at him with a sweet smile. Riley's youngest and only daughter was painfully shy. She barely spoke, but possessed a bright mind behind her silence. Thranduil was among the first to hold her, and when she grew, she began to shadow him whenever he was around.

"Oh, are you saying that you prefer your partner in crime's cooking more than that of the love of your life?"

"Well, sometimes a change doesn't hurt anybody-"

"Oh, you!" Riley flinched away, laughing, when Cassie slapped her hand against his arm. Thranduil grinned and picked up Dawn effortlessly, making her squeal in delight.

"You have silly parents," he told the girl. Dawn giggled. He interrupted the couple's bantering. "Alright, lovebirds, let's sit down for dinner. I'm starving!"

He placed the leftovers in containers for Riley and Cassie to take, in spite of their protests. "You know if it stays, I'd be eating Chinese a week." He told them. "I like a bit of change in my food."

They cleaned and washed the dishes together while "A Wonderful World" played in the background.

* * *

_La Rochelle,_

_France,_

Círdan managed to get over his shock quickly enough to take Legolas to his office. It was a spacious one, but full of French antiquities. Legolas stopped by a clock and admired the woodwork.

"19th century," Círdan said. "It once belonged to a French noble." There was a lilt of French accent in his voice.

"You speak French." Legolas said.

"You speak English." Círdan returned. He sat down behind his desk. Legolas went to the desk and picked up the metal statuette of a ship shaped into a swan. He ran his fingers on it, feeling the smooth, cold surface of the ship. "How did you come here?" Círdan queried.

Legolas looked up from the statuette. Then he threw a meaningful gaze from the ship to Círdan.

"By a ship," he said dryly. Círdan smirked.

"Since when?" Círdan pressed. Legolas carefully placed the ship back on Círdan's table.

"It's been a while." Legolas said. "We need to reach America."

"I have a ship." Círdan supplied.

"We have enemies on our tail." Legolas added carefully. Círdan smiled and shook his head.

"You needn't worry about them." Círdan returned smoothly. "I have people to take care of for nuisances." Legolas raised both brows but he decided it was better not to ask. There was already enough on his mind.

"I am sure you do." Legolas returned in just the same dry tones. Círdan flashed a grin at him, white teeth glittering in the lamplight. Legolas noticed Círdan kept the blinds shut for privacy. He threw a short gaze at the various framed documents behind Círdan.

"Silver Star Line," Legolas read. "How did you come by the name?"

"The light of Eärendil the Mariner guides us. And the stars have always been a seafarer's friends."

"Now that's the poetic Círdan I once knew." Legolas said under his breath. But Círdan heard him and he laughed in return. "Don't you miss Aman?"

"Indeed, I do." Círdan agreed. "I missed it dearly." He gestured Legolas to sit down. Legolas complied, sinking into the soft cushion of the chair. "I miss the beaches, especially, with white and blue gems strewn over the shores. I hear it is getting difficult living in Aman."

Legolas' smile disappeared completely.

"It is." Legolas' voice was barely above a whisper. He spoke so low, as if the evil that plagued Aman was capable of eavesdrop, as if the danger can somehow materialise over the distance until it fell right between them in the secluded office. "It's getting dangerous. We had no choice but to leave it behind and come here."

"How long have you been fleeing from your enemy?" Círdan asked. Legolas found the shipwright's brow furrowed. He imagined how he looked; Legolas had no doubt he looked tired, weary, and eager for a good rest without the fear of ambush or attack.

"It's been nearly a week." Legolas said. "We are a group of four Ellyn and six Ellyth. The Ellyth do their share. But even keeping the watch and changing it by the hour, shifting at even the slightest hint of our pursuers can be exhausting."

"Oh, no doubt," Círdan agreed immediately. He ran his eyes over Legolas' form, noting the clean, new clothes and the style of the outfit.

"You are certainly well-dressed for someone on the run." Círdan said in dry tones. He turned around until his back was towards Legolas and carefully pulled out a file. "I could say the same for the rest of your crew."

"If you had seen us before, you'd know." Legolas said calmly. His English rolled off his tongue as if it was his native language. There was a faint hint of British accent to it. "We barely took baths, and our clothes were torn in pieces." Legolas gave a loud exhale. He was tired- tired of running. "We barely slept."

Círdan turned around and walked up to the younger Elf. He pressed his hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"You'll find rest here." He said, trying to put him at ease. Legolas passed him a small grateful smile. Círdan returned it with one of his own and released him. Legolas tilted his head lightly.

"You left Aman." Legolas said. "Many wondered why."

Círdan looked up from his iPhone. His lips were lightly pressed together. His jawline rotated. He looked pensive.

"I was never the kind to live a life of peace." Círdan said. His voice was quiet. He looked up with a small smile. "The Sea is my mistress-"

"-And I have long since given my love to it," Legolas finished. He smiled at Círdan. "It's a famous saying of the Teleri Elves."

"Indeed," Círdan demurred. "What do you intend to tell your father once you meet him?"

Legolas chuckled.

"How did you know he was here?" Legolas questioned.

"We have the same contact supplying us information." Círdan replied. Legolas made a soft 'ah' sound in understanding. Silence fell between them until Legolas finally spoke.

"I don't know what I will tell him," Legolas admitted. "I think he will be very surprised to see us here." Círdan said nothing but he was listening attentively. Emboldened, Legolas continued. "He lived here for so long, and we barely heard anything of him."

"I am sure he is still the same father you always knew." Círdan returned. "Not even a century has passed. An Elf can't change so fast." Legolas only frowned and said nothing. He had some doubts but he didn't voice them. Some fears were better left unspoken. An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them.

"I have spare rooms in my house," Círdan said at last. "You will be safe there. Take the rest you need, and I will supply you and your friends with everything." Then the shipwright paused briefly. "Does… Thranduil know of other Elves living here?"

Legolas winced inwardly. No, his father wasn't aware. He didn't want to tell him either. He doubted his father would react kindly if he knew.

"No, Oromë said he didn't know." Legolas answered. He tapped his fingers over the surface of the desk. "I don't intend to tell him until its necessary."

"I suppose that is for the best." Círdan conceded. Then he stood up. The chair screeched backwards as he did so. Legolas did the same. "Come on. Let me take you home." The shipwright opened the door and gestured at Legolas to go through first. Círdan's next words stopped Legolas in his tracks.

"It's starting, isn't it?" The shipwright asked quietly. His voice was barely above a whisper, as if some unseen force could hear them. Legolas didn't look at him. He nodded wordlessly.

"In a way, it already started."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

-This story was written long before I knew the actor of Thranduil was named "Lee". By then, the name was woven into the story.

-Do leave a review! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Thranduil's apartment,_

_New York,_

Thranduil dug through his closet, looking for his shirt. He found the shirt he was looking for, a sky blue shirt with full sleeves. He tugged it out of the stack of his clothing. Something passed through the corner of his eye as he pulled the shirt free and it fell on the floor with the solid thump. Thranduil looked down. It was a small journal, covered with light brown cover.

He fell still for a moment before he shifted his shirt on his forearm and bent down to pick it up. The tie around the book was ordinary twine. The brown cover was much lighter than the time when he bought it, so long ago. The pages were yellowed, and the edges curled inward slightly. Thranduil pulled the knot free and opened the journal at a random page. The elegant German script flowed over the pages. It was his handwriting in the foreign language.

He read the first line: "There was nothing I could do to save that woman. It is a strange thing; when an animal kills, it kills for the sake of survival, food and strength, but when man kills, he reduces himself to something lower than an animal. He becomes a demon."

He snapped the book shut. The memories of World War were terrible and still fresh on his mind. He tried not to remember them. Instead he shut all his experiences of that war in a safe box in his mind, hidden deep in the dark recesses of his mind.

He never felt so old.

He shook his head, and retied the twine over the book before pushing it deep into the closet, hidden from view until the next time he pulled out some clothing.

* * *

_New York City,_

_New York._

"Monique said it was definitely poisoned." Riley said, digging his hands into his pocket as they walked through the streets. He cast a disgusted look at Thranduil. "You know, for someone who looks British, you wolf down food pretty quickly."

"I thought hotdogs were made for being wolfed down." Thranduil replied, taking another bite of his hotdog. In spite of Riley's words, he was eating in a pretty civilized manner.

"I can't believe you like that stuff."

"You have to be the first American I met who doesn't like hotdog."

"Do you have any idea how much money Americans spend on that? Millions, Lee! Millions!"

"I heard you the first time."

"Snarky and sarcastic," Riley snorted.

"Just the way you like it." Lee replied after swallowing another bite. "So this gang hangs out in a nearby bar. They are pretty much known to be a bit of a trouble around here. There are rumours around here that they are involved in drugs but cops never caught anything even a wind of it."

"They're the killers."

"Why would you think that?"

"Simple, isn't it?" Thranduil said, finishing his hotdog. "The gang is stuck into something that is, well, dirty. Any gang member who gets in isn't allowed to get out. But Esposito decides that he wants out. But they can't have that. He might want to leave them all but that don't mean he might rat them out. They decide to put him to silence." Thranduil frowned. "That is so boring."

Riley rolled his eyes. "Not everything is related to high terrorists and nukes, Lee."

"That was an amazing case, though, you have to admit."

* * *

_New York City,_

_New York._

If there was a shortcoming in New York, it was the sorrowful lack of greenery. The only vast body covered with trees, grass and water was the Central Park. So the concrete-built basement for parking was as cold and unfeeling as a Dwarven hall under a mountain, in Thranduil's opinion.

He got on the elevator, took the ride till he reached ground. He found the doorman loitering about the lobby.

"Good evening, sir!" The doorman hollered at him. Thranduil gave him a casual salute as he passed by him with two fingers on his forehead. "Care for a drink after my shift's over? Me and some other boys around here plan to go to the bar a block down."

"Thanks, but I try not to drink in company." Thranduil said. His voice was just as amiable as that of the doorman. The man laughed but his amusement didn't reach his eyes, which curiously watched his only mysterious and reserved tenant of the building. Thranduil didn't entertain that curiosity. He guarded his name and heritage jealously. He didn't want to know what would happen if word got out he wasn't human.

When he reached his apartment, he pulled out his keys and shifted through them with fingers of one hand, the other holding the mails and its shoulder hoisted up slightly to keep the strap of the bag from sliding off. Once he stepped inside, he closed the door behind him, switched on the lights and pressed the back of his head against it with a satisfied sigh. This was his place of refuge. When he first invited Riley into his apartment seven years ago, he took great satisfaction from the look on his face. Everything was set in a way to make it seem it had more space than usual, with the colours being light and homey. It was very tidy. So tidy, in fact, that he was sure if Galion had ever seen it, he would have been proud of him. he did not care much for décor, except for some paintings hanging here and there, and having a little more artistic taste by draping a throw diagonally over a couch instead of folding it, or perhaps placing small containers and such to hold miscellaneous things in. he had learned to cook too, but only shifted through his usual favourites. He cooked every alternate day, and spent the next day eating leftovers. Placing his shoulder bag on a counter that joined the kitchen and living room together and dropping the mail beside it, he went to his phone and placed the answering machine on run.

He opened the fridge, pulling out pasta and salad from the shelves and placed the pasta in the microwave to heat, all the while paying bare attention to his answering machine.

"Hi, sweetie." Riley's wife filled the silent kitchen and he shook his head wryly. Cassie took it upon herself to look after the 'poor, lonely man' who was 'undoubtedly missing the joys of having a family'. Thranduil could not help but glance down at his marriage ring with a slight pang in his heart. He did miss his wife, and his son. "Riley said that you have been cooped up in your place for so many days-"

"It has only been three days." Thranduil muttered.

"-Why don't you come for dinner this weekend? The kids have been asking for you."

"And who else is coming?" Thranduil asked the machine as the microwave beeped and he pulled out his pasta.

"I have a few friends coming over. They are ladies, so you don't have to worry-" The rest was drowned out in his groan.

"Why can't I be left in peace?" He asked the machine.

"Ok, bye!"

The machine beeped again and Thranduil deposited his pasta on a cooler plate. Getting water from the dispenser, he sat down and dug in, listening to the rest of the messages as he ate.

"You and your people are a nuisance, King Thranduil." Lee choked and sputtered as water went down the wrong way.

"Círdan?"

"Normally I would not have called to tell you this, but given the fright your son-"

"My SON?" Thranduil dropped his fork, listening closely.

"Your son and the others-"

"-what others?"

"-gave me, I thought I should warn you before you make a spectacle of yourself. As for how I got your number, well, I have my ways."

The message ended and Thranduil scrambled for the machine, trying to check the I.D. but the caller was anonymous. Calling back would do no good. He set back heavily in his chair, pasta forgotten.

* * *

_New York City,_

_New York._

The sounds of gunshots filled the air. The table that Thranduil had toppled to its side and took refuge behind thudded with each impact of a bullet. His grip on his gun tightened and glanced sideways to see Riley taking refuge behind an upright couch. They were in a bar, well known for a hangout for people whom Thranduil and Riley suspected to have a hand in killing the couple they were investigating. It turned out to be true. He gestured at Riley, asking for backup and Riley nodded in confirmation. Backup was coming, but they had to make it out alive.

"Ya know, ya just had to confront them!" Riley shouted.

"And you just had to pull out your gun first!" Thranduil retorted.

A round of shots fired, cutting off their dialogue.

"I didn't pull out my gun! I just put my hand on my coat's pocket!"

"This is not the time for arguing!" Thranduil bellowed over the deafening sound of gunshots.

He leaned to the side, his gun going up and started to shoot more on instinct than anything else at anything that moved. He was able to disable two hulking men before seeing one of the five men still there bringing out their guns from behind the bar. He hastily took shelter. Riley straightened on his knees, resting both arms on the edge of the couch and shot before taking cover. A satisfying sound of a grunt told the hit went home.

"Nice shot," Thranduil praised him.

"Well better than yours," Riley retorted, "Reinforcements coming in, in five minutes!"

"Let's try to stay alive for now." Thranduil said.

They needed to either retreat or push forward. But the retreat was not possible. There were too many. There were no obstacles to take refuge behind. The only way to move was to move forward.

He pushed the table forward with a hand, able to keep a fast pace in spite of the fact that he was crouched low. He looked up and started to shoot as he moved, making their opponents duck down for cover. He heard Riley shout oaths in the air before hearing a screeching sound of something heavy dragging against the floor and Riley began his own shooting.

He reached the bar and shot the hand of one of the men, making him cry in pain and drop his gun. He placed his hand and lurched over the bar table, catching sight of the four men hiding behind it. He shot down two, and another Riley took down. He searched for the last one but could not find him. The door to the back hung open, a testament to his escape.

"Oi, Lee!"

But Thranduil had given pursuit. None of the men were critically injured, only disabled so Riley could easily subdue them. He ran through the backroom, and through the half-open door into an alley. He saw garbage cans lining one side and he turned away from them, intending to go on the street.

His instincts screamed at him and he turned around, spotting the man standing right behind him, feet apart and gun at the ready. He jumped sideways just as the man shot.

He lurched backward from the impact, pain shooting from his side as the bullet dug deep into his side. An irritated thought that he should have worn a bulletproof vest underneath came in his mind before he registered his enemy was still on his feet and making the last killing shot. Raising his gun, he took wild shots. He was able to catch his shooter on the legs, before a wild shot took him in the chest. The man fell back, and did not move.

"Lee! Lee, come on! Don't you dare die on me! I won't be able to face any of your women if you do." Trembling fingers pushed down painfully on his neck, searching for his pulse.

"I am alive. I am alive." Lee said dryly, pushing Riley's fingers away. "Stop it, you idiot. You act like you care."

"You are bleeding out!" Riley snapped. His one hand pressed down on the wound on his side, making him grit his teeth in pain while the other fished frantically for his cell phone.

"Always so snappish when I get hurt." Thranduil chuckled, before it turned into a groan when the pain became more intense.

"That's called brotherly love, man! Get used to it." Removing his hand, he took off his jacket and pressed it down on Thranduil's wound, making him inhale sharply. "Now, here is the deal. That jacket of mine was Cassie's gift. So try not to end up in a box and I won't have to explain that I ruined a jacket for no worth… again."

"Won't." Thranduil said, rubbing his face with a hand, already beginning to sweat.

"Good. Hang in there, partner."

"I hate getting shot." Lee grumbled.

"You and me both."

The rest passed out in a haze, until a calm face loomed into his vision.

"Detective? We are going to take care of you. You are in safe hands now. We are in an ambulance. We'll take you to the hospital and treat you there."

* * *

_Hospital,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

Aman was a beautiful place to live in. he had his wife, son, his grandson. He had his father with him, and his mother. His friends were there also and he had all his subjects with him living together in a forest the Valar had given to him. But the peace was far too trying to him as the years went by. The thought of wanderlust crept up in his mind until he could not take it anymore.

_"You may find the world a different place_." Tauron warned him on the day he was supposed to leave. His family had wanted to come with him too but he did not allow it.

_"That is why my family is not going with me."_

Tauron only regarded him gravely but said nothing. He was not too troubled of leaving Aman, for he had the Valar's permission.

_"Who knows? The Weaver has plans for you."_ Tauron said to him in his final farewell.

When he entered Arda, his ship crashed and he was up shore on land known as Germany. None spoke his language or even recognized him. He fitted in when it came to looks, strong jawline, broad-shouldered and blond hair. But racism was rising and any imperfections were not tolerated, so his grey eyes and pointed ears drew the eye.

The man who found him was an elderly man who lived a life of a businessman. He had wealth aplenty but chose a simple life together with his elderly wife. They both taught him to speak German before teaching him to speak English as well.

"You should know both languages." He wheezed once, coughing. "You never know when they will come of use."

They had no children except for one son who was in his twenties when he died from a sickness. So they took him in, fed him and clothed him, treated him as if he were their son. But then the whispers of a man by the name of Adolf Hitler were circulating. Soon, men came to their door, knocking and asking for their 'son'. They wanted him for war.

Thranduil took part in it. He had a different name then. And he never could forget the looks on their faces when he turned back to see them, how the woman had pressed her mouth on her handkerchief and sobbed, her white hair straying from underneath her cap, the old man holding her tight with his mouth in a grim line as he watched him take them away.

The war that followed was something Lee was never proud of. But the Nazis were vigilant and suffered no disobedience or desertion. He was alone, barely having spent three years in Arda before the war started. He did not know where to go, how to escape. So he kept on, silently defying his superiors by saving a life of a child by hiding her underneath the body of her mother. Or perhaps by hiding an unconscious man in the sewers. He continued these small acts until he came upon a band of Nazis that were against Adolf's principles. He joined them.

He learned over the months how to gather intelligence, to use it against different Nazi Commanders and to, if possible, kill Hitler himself. The plans were unsuccessful each time and he took care to wipe out all trace of himself at each step.

"You are a good man," One of them had said to him in German. They never took his queer look in account. "That is why I hope you survive this."

He did. When the British armies invaded Berlin, he slipped into their ranks, giving himself a new uniform and a new name- a new face if possible. Because in the chaos, such tiny details go unnoticed. When he returned to that sleepy town where he left behind his 'parents', he was greeted by an empty home. Asking around, he found just the extent of their love for him. The woman died in her sorrow just some months after he left, the man who took him in following her soon after. They had left the house in his name, as well as their wealth. He sold the house and the few lands the couple had possessed in the countryside and took his wealth with him to England. His time with the rebellious Nazis paid him well. He forged documents to his name, changed his name to a more British one so that he may be called Theodore Scott (or 'Teddy', since the British were fond of giving nicknames). He built more wealth upon the one he had inherited and as the years went by, he progressively earned more and more money that he kept safely for a time when the goings become tough and he would have a need of them.

And when the times changed and whispers started about him and how he seemed to have an endless supply of money, he knew it was time to disappear. This time he vanished to America, taking his wealth with him, changing his identity. He never forgot the kind couple who took him in the first time. So when he was asked for his name, it became "Lee Kraft". Kraft was a German word for strength, owing to both the German couple as well as the name his father Oropher had given him.

The thoughts came to him in a jumble. Memories flashed through his mind, and his eyes fluttered open. The lights were glaringly bright and he squinted at first before he got used to them.

"Well, look who is starting to wake up." He heard a bright, chirpy voice sound by his ear. He opened his eyes blearily.

"Take it easy, brother. You are in a hospital, fresh out of surgery."

He tilted his head to the sound. Riley sat on a seat beside him, shirt still bloody from the shootout but dry. He had been sitting there for a long time.

"Riley," Thranduil said, his voice hoarse. The man reached for a glass of water and raised his head, holding it to his lips. Thranduil took a few small sips before resting back.

"What happened?"

"Nothing much. You will live. The doctor's verdict is that you responded well to the surgery and you should be home within a few days, depending on how well you behave. Oh, and Captain called. Sounds like you gave many people a fright back in the precinct."

Thranduil chuckled.

"What about you? You good?"

"Yeah, certainly better than what you look like." Riley retorted.

"You should have gone back home. It looks like I am in good hands here."

"Yeah… nah, I wanted to check on you myself."

"No, really, you should have gone back. You stink of blood."

"Careful, you are insulting your own blood." Thranduil chuckled and closed his eyes.

"Riley?"

"Hmm?"

"I do NOT have 'women'." Lee ground out, opening his grey eyes to glare at his partner. Riley had the gall to laugh.

"You still remember that, eh? The pain did not toy with your brain, that's for sure." Riley said. Thranduil rolled his eyes at him. "Remember Lily?"

"Lily?"

"Lily Johns, Cassie's best friend?" Riley elaborated. "She used to be the maid of honour."

"The one who was really touchy-feely?"

"You have to be the only man I know that uses the word 'touchy-feely'." Riley retorted. Thranduil snorted, grimacing when the pain lanced through his side.

"She had no knowledge of personal space." Thranduil replied, voice tart.

"Or she did but looking at you, I can't blame her for forgetting." Riley quipped. Thranduil chortled.

"Excuse me," a nurse said, standing at the doors. "It is time for him to get some rest. You may come later." Riley nodded and thanked him.

"Well, I gotta jump." Riley said to Thranduil, turning his attention at him. He patted his shoulder before getting up. "I stink of your blood and I have some work to do. Captain's gonna want to hear this."

Thranduil grimaced. "Tell her I would give my paperwork tomorrow."

"You ain't going anywhere tomorrow and you ain't gonna do anything." Riley said sternly. "There are things other than work, ya know. I will handle Captain Shaw. You stay put and stay healing." Thranduil smiled up at him. Riley lost most of his accent and street-style ways as he grew up. He grew more eloquent over the years he spent with Thranduil but he slipped back in slang from time to time.

"Alright," Thranduil complied with a low chuckle. He closed his eyes. "I suppose I can't go anywhere."

"Damn right. Besides, you have plenty of holidays and leave you kept hoarding over the years. Might come in handy someday."

"Yeah," Thranduil said, thoughts going back to Círdan's call. When Riley left, the room was blessedly quiet. He glanced at the tray resting on a slim movable table beside him and spotted a glass of water. He reached for it.

* * *

_Jackson Residence,_

_New York City,_

_New York_

Cassie insisted that Thranduil stayed over at their place instead of returning to his home no matter how many times he tried to dissuade her. She was incredibly short; barely five foot, but she had a heart of lioness. What she says, the world of the order would go along with it.

The house was a small, modest one but it was perfect for their little family. The living room was littered with toys and Riley led Thranduil carefully through the obstacle-riddled floor. The doors were locked for children's safety and there was a kid's gate nearly reaching Thranduil's hip separating the kitchen from the living room. The babysitter spoke briefly to Cassie before slipping out after saying her goodbyes. Thranduil heard the sounds of a gaming console playing from the boys' room.

"Children, five more minutes and then I want that XBOX switched off!" Cassie called over his shoulder before turning her attention to Thranduil.

"Oh, mom!"

"I mean it!" Cassie warned. "Here, Lee, let us help you take off your coat." They didn't listen to Thranduil's protests. Riley supported him as Cassie gently peeled away his coat. Thranduil gritted his teeth when his side jostled. They led him to the guest bedroom.

"Help him down the bed. Gently," Cassie ordered her husband, fixing him with a chiding look.

"I was planning on being gentle." Riley protested, helping Thranduil down.

"Liar," Lee whispered to him. He had felt Riley's hand loosen, intending to simply drop him on the bed. Just then two boys burst in the room. One of them hopped on the bed and started to jump. The other one hopped on the bed and right on Riley's back.

"Is Uncle Lee planning to stay over?" The boy on Riley's back asked. The one jumping on the bed grabbed on to Thranduil's shoulder, shaking him in excitement. "Will you see my new action figures?"

"Alex!" Cassie scolded, voice rising in a pitch out of worry when she Lee stifle a grimace. "He is not a snow globe, so stop shaking him!" Alex giggled and let go. "TJ! Get off of your father's back right this instant! He is tired and hungry."

In an instant, both the twins were onto their mother.

"So will he?" They chorused, tugging on to her shirt.

"Yes, he is staying over. No, he will not see your action figures right now." Alex's face looked crestfallen.

"I can look at them once I get some rest." Thranduil spoke up from his bed. Cassie glanced at him.

"You do not have to-"

"I am fine with it." Thranduil assured her. Just then Dawn peeked in from the open doorway, her light blue eyes brightening at the sight of Lee. She scrambled to the bed and raised both arms up at him.

"Take me up!" She insisted. Grinning, Lee obliged.

"Hello, little one." He nearly cooed. Thranduil patted her head and she giggled, fluttering adorable eyelashes at him.

"Dawn," Cassie said, pinching her nose between her thumb and index finger. But in a matter of seconds, Dawn already made herself comfortable by Thranduil's side, one hand holding a small toy pony and galloping it through the air. Of all their children, Dawn was the most attached to Lee. The little angel would throw a fit if Cassie removed her now.

"She can stay." Thranduil said softly, resting his head back on the pillows and closing his eyes. He didn't know how tired he was until he lay down on such a comfortable bed. Cassie seemed to have made up her mind.

"Alright, you two, back to the kitchen and finish your milk. Then it's time for bed." Cassie commanded, looking down at her sons like a lioness over her cubs.

"Aw, mom!" They chorused.

"Go, go, go, go, go," Cassie ushered them outside. She paused briefly at the doorway. "Dawn, do not disturb him." She added, voice fading away with her sons. He felt Riley touch his arm and he opened his eyes.

"Hey, man, if you need anything, all you gotta do is holler."

"Will do," He promised. Dawn shifted beside him and continued to play. Riley looked at her for a while and decided to persuade her.

"Dawn, let's go and see what's on T.V."

"I don't want to."

Riley sighed and gave Thranduil a look that said 'I tried' but he waved him off. Riley switched off the lights and left the door slightly open. Within a few seconds, Thranduil drifted off to sleep.

He woke up again when he felt Dawn shift around at his side. He slowly sat up, careful not to pull his wounded side.

"Do you want to go back to bed?" He asked the child. She was rubbing her eyes with a hand, the other loosely clutching her pony. She nodded sleepily. He hesitated before getting up and slowly gathering her in his arms. The short nap helped him regain some strength to support his own weight and that of Dawn, added to his quick Elven healing. The wound pained him, and if Dawn shifted, the pain flared but at least he could walk. She rested her head on his shoulder, hand instantly relaxing and he caught the pony just in time. She was fast asleep by the time he entered the corridor. He heard the clanking of metal from the kitchen and Riley and Cassie's laughter.

"Look who's awake? Lee, for pity's sake you didn't need to carry her!" Riley chided him when Lee entered the kitchen. He immediately reached out and relieved him of his charge.

"Come on, you are going back to the nursery." Riley said to his sleeping daughter.

"We have some leftovers of dinner. I did not want to wake you." Cassie said, opening the fridge. "I made some egg-fried rice, and there is some salad, and some Chinese dish with gravy, the name of which I always forget." Cassie took out the dishes, closing the door with her foot before placing them on the counter. "Sit," she added sternly when he tried to help her.

"I am hurt, not old, Cassie." Thranduil said, grimacing at the irony of his words.

"Just hobble back to your seat and let her do the work." Riley said, appearing behind him, "Move, you idiot. Let me pour out somethin' for you."

Lee sat back in his chair in resignation, his foot accidently kicking an action figure across the kitchen floor.

"Sorry about the mess. The kids manage to leave everything around."

"It's not a problem, Cassie." He had learned long ago to keep a lookout for toys and kids swarming the floor when he was at Riley's place. Lego bricks hurt the most, from a harsh experience.

Cassie prepared a plate for him and placed in front of him.

"Here," she said, smiling motherly at him. "Bon Appetite."

"Thank you." he said quietly, returning her smile.

"Poor Lee. You need someone to add a bit of clutter to your life, don't you?"

"I think I do." He said after a pause. He glanced down at his marriage ring on his index finger. In all the years he spent here in Arda since he left Aman, his connection with his wife was distant and stretched. But now, his bond seemed to warm again, as if his spouse was much closer than he knew.

_Oh, Legolas had better not done what I think he did…_

Deep down, though, he couldn't wait for them to come.

* * *

**Author's Note****:**

Thank you for the reviews!

**List of OCs:**

**Shaw- **Captain of Thranduil's precinct.

**List of Canons:**

**Tauron- **This was the name of Oromë. He is also called Béma by the Rohirrim. His other name was forester.

**Oromë-**He was a Vala who discovered the Elves and loved them dearly. His love is in hunting and in riding in the forests.

**Weaver- **She is the wife of Mandos. Her name is Vairë and her purpose to weave stories of Arda.

**Nazis and Racism- **Hitler believed in a superior race, which had fair skin, broad-shoulders, light hair and blue eyes. But Thranduil was grey-eyed and his ears were 'deformed', which made him stand out.

**Nazis and Army Recruits- **Not all the soldiers came willingly. Some were dragged from their homes by force, sometimes even killing their families as well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_NYPD,_

_74th__precinct,_

_New York,_

"Why is Captain Shaw always happy after you meet her?" Riley demanded once Lee left the Captain's office.

"Probably because I cause her the least problems," Thranduil offered.

"No, no, no. there has to be something else." Riley said contemplatively. "Have you ever noticed that some of our folks wait until after you report to her when delivering bad news? She always seems to take it well once you speak to her." Thranduil smiled and said nothing.

"I still do not understand why you will not take some damn days off," Riley observed. "Shaw would not mind."

"What can I say? I am a workaholic," Thranduil joked. The phone on his deck rang and he picked it up. "Detective Lee Kraft, Homicide," He answered.

"Detective, there has been a murder at a construction site down at Queens."

"We'll be there." He said, noting down where they had to go.

"There is murder." Thranduil said once he hung up.

"Splendid. Let's go."

* * *

_Crime Scene,_

_New York,_

"Is that a bite mark?" Thranduil asked in disbelief.

"Yes, it is." Monique said, sitting on her legs beside the victim. A twenty year old brunette lay on her back, eyes staring up blankly with arms spread out, completely pale. A bite mark was visible on her clavicle. "And not only that, she is completely drained of blood."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope."

Looking down at their victim, Thranduil had to believe it even when thought it sounded very unlikely.

"This looks like a Twilight version of events." Riley muttered, flipping through the victim's cell phone in his gloved hands. Thranduil looked at him in mild amusement.

"So, do we look for Jacob or Edward? Or the Volturi?" Thranduil said. Both Monique and Riley looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"How come you know that much about Twilight?" Monique asked.

"I was curious about the hype it was getting and I might have tried to read the first book."

"What happened?" Monique asked, grinning.

"I didn't understand what was going on until I searched it on Wikipedia." Thranduil admitted, making both of them chuckle.

"The victim's name?" Thranduil asked.

"Bella."

"Stop joking."

"I am not joking." Riley protested. "Her name is Bella Ross. She works as a waitress in a coffee shop some blocks away."

"Anything you got for me, Monique?" Thranduil asked. Monique shot him an impish grin.

"Oh, I got plenty. But regarding the victim, I would say she died some 6 to 8 a.m."

"It's not a vampire then."

"Unless, it is a sparkling one," Thranduil retorted. "We should see what she has been up to in her last hours prior to her death. That should give us a clue as to what is going on. Anything else?"

"Yep, there is this." Monique grabbed the victim's left arm and raised it, baring the inside of her arm below the armpit. There was peculiar paw print tattoo on it.

"It looks fresh."

"Yep," Monique said, lowering the arm. "And my guess is, the killer put it there."

"Hm."

Why did it seem so familiar?

"Alright, we need a photo of it. Let's see if any of her friends could tell where that tattoo could come from."

* * *

_New York,_

"No," one of Bella's roommates said while looking at the paw print tattoo on Thranduil's phone. "She never had this tattoo. She hates tattoos. Said they are too showy."

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure," she said nodding. She was a pretty Korean girl, eyes red from crying. Thranduil tucked his phone back in his pocket.

"Has she been out of sorts, lately?" Thranduil asked. "Has she been acting strange?"

"She seemed to be in a bit of stress." The girl said, nodding. "But she was fine otherwise."

"Is it normal for her to be awake and about at such an hour?"

"She does smoke in the morning and in the evening." She answered. "She steps out for it, because I don't like smoking."

"Where does she go?" Thranduil asked, but the girl shrugged.

"I don't know. I never thought to ask."

"Is there anyone new in her life? Boyfriend? Friend?"

"Nope, no, I don't know. She was really quite, kept to herself but she wasn't, you know, depressed. She was just another person and she was so down to earth. Who would do this?"

"That's what I am trying to figure out."

"Does she have any family?"

"No. She had a foster family but she never spoke of them and I do not think she keeps contact with them."

Thranduil nodded slowly.

"Alright," Thranduil tugged into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed her his card. "If there is anything else you remember, do give me a call."

* * *

_Grocery Store,_

_New York,_

His hand moved upward, not touching the items on the shelf until he found his favorite brand of coffee beans. Taking it off, he tossed it into his trolley before reconsidering and picking up a few more. He thought of the elves coming to his home, the numbers of which he did not know, and decided he needed to store more food than usual. He picked up some vegetables and fruits, taking a little more than usual. He was browsing in the frozen meat section when he nearly staggered as a small bundle bumped straight into his legs. Looking down in surprise, he found a small boy sitting in the floor, looking dazed.

"I bumped into you, mister." The boy said breathlessly.

"So you did." Thranduil replied, laughing and reaching out with a hand to help the kid up.

"Where's your parent?"

"Mom's in the veggie corner." The boy replied obediently.

"Well, you should go back to her now. It's not right to be going without your parents around.

"Charlie," he heard a feminine voice call out. He looked up and he nearly choked on air.

She had a moderate height, her black hair pulled in a messy bun with disheveled clothing that showed her motherly side but somehow became her. There was a splash of Mexican features across her face, but one thing was prominent in her… Arwen.

She looked warily at him before returning her gaze to her son and then looking back at him.

"He bumped into me." Thranduil explained.

"Oh, sorry. He is a little excited." She placed her hands on the boy's shoulders.

"No problem."

He watched her leave, remembering Elrond and wishing he knew how far Arwen was immortalized through her descendants.

When he went back to his apartment, he grabbed for the remote and switched on the T.V., putting on a random channel before setting his grocery bags on the kitchen counter. He hummed to himself as he got to work in putting things away. Riley tried to persuade him to stay longer at their house but Thranduil did not want to impose. His phone beeped and fished it out of his pocket to find a new message.

'Cassie wanted to remind you about the dinner tonight. Try to wear clothes, eh?'

Thranduil glanced at the message, shaking his head. Riley and his sense of humor. The Rangers were more subtle in their jokes, saying little but suggesting much, bold in their own way. With a pang he remembered his beloved forest, the scent of woodland green after a rainfall, the biting cold when the windows were open in winter in his study, the thrill of a chase on a hunt with Thorontur following close behind and chiding him for his breakneck speed.

It seemed so different from NYC.

He switched off his cell phone, going to his bedroom and pulled out black pants and red full sleeved collar shirt before heading for a shower.

* * *

_Jackson Residence,_

_New York,_

Dawn was following him around, one finger hooked into his belt.

"The turkey is delicious, Cassie." He called over his shoulder to the kitchen where Cassie and her friends were chatting and laughing. He sat down on the sofa beside Riley. The T.V. was on, with a rerun of a soccer match. The boys were playing XBOX in their room. Riley was pretty relaxed. He hated giving his weekend to any guests except the ones he was comfortable with. Thranduil was one of these few.

"I knew you would like it." Cassie replied. He heard a brief silence before he heard giggling. "So who is he?" One of her friends whispered to his partner's wife. Rolling his eyes, he proceeded to offer a piece of turkey meat to Dawn, who took it immediately.

"I am a detective in NYPD." Thranduil called over his shoulder, hearing feminine gasps of surprise. "I work homicide cases. I am happily married with a beautiful wife who is currently spending time in… Europe."

He had become far too good at lying, he thought sourly.

There was a long silence and he supposed they were gesturing it at one another, but he did not pay any attention to it. Beside him, Riley sat on sofa, head down as he tried to control his laughter.

"Stop it." Thranduil told him.

"You ruined my wife's plans."

"I told you I am married."

"Right," Riley said, not believing him.

"I am!"

Riley only snorted. Sighing, Thranduil offered another turkey piece to Dawn.

"I can't believe she doesn't put a fuss with you."

"That's because I am not her parent." Thranduil said mildly. The child held a Barbie doll in one hand, using the same fingers to fiddle with the doll's arms while the other hand held a turkey piece Thranduil had given her.

"Dawn, come here, pet." Cassie said. "You have imposed on Uncle Lee long enough."

Dawn pouted and sank on the couch, sulky. Thranduil only smiled noncommittally. He was one of the first few to hold Dawn after she was born. From that point on, he had simply and quite suddenly became a part of their lives.

"It's fine." He called back. "Is there any more gravy left?"

"Sure, help yourself."

Thranduil got up from his seat, Dawn following immediately and hooking her fingers into his belt. He reached the counter separating the kitchen from the living room and helped himself.

"Have some more," Cassie said, taking a sip from her wine glass before hurrying to him and taking the spoon from his hands. She proceeded to add more in his plate, in spite of his protesting.

"Don't argue with me. God, you look so thin-"

"I am fit. Cassie, I can't have more, really!" He immediately removed his plate when her spoon went back to the dish.

"Did you take your medicine?"

"No."

"What?"

"I am not in pain, Cassie." Thranduil replied.

"Medicine?" One of the women asked. He glanced at her briefly. She was one of Cassie's single friends, Clara, her name was. He looked at her and did not like her one bit. She was one of those women who dressed more (or less) to turn heads rather than to possess refined class.

"He was shot during one of his investigations." Cassie informed her, and Thranduil inwardly groaned.

"Oh, you must be so brave." Clara said.

"It was just a part of my job." Thranduil mumbled. Dawn tugged on his belt. "Water?" she asked. Cassie shook her head and handed Thranduil her cup.

"You are so good with children. Do you have any of your own?"

"A son," Thranduil replied feebly, trying to ignore Cassie's look of disbelief.

They all jumped when Riley gave a roar of laughter from the living room.

"I am sorry." Riley said calmly, turning around. "I just saw one of the players make a ridiculous move. That's all."

Thranduil glared at him. He knew precisely why Riley laughed. Neither Riley nor Cassie ever believed him, thinking he was only making it up to avoid advances. So the happily married couple always tried to push him together with one woman or another.

_~Father?~_

Thranduil started violently, dropping his plate. It crashed on the kitchen floor, fork cluttering to a side and the food scattering among the glass shards.

"Lee!" Cassie said, getting up from her seat.

"Side paining you, man?" Riley asked, hurrying up to him. Flustered, Thranduil knelt and started to pick up the larger shards, a part of him embarrassed from such a display, the other part soaring in joy at the thought that his family was here.

His family was here! His bond with his wife seemed to warm greatly as it used to in Aman and in Arda when she was with him.

"Uncle?" Dawn asked worriedly. Cassie had pulled her away, picking her up and making her sit on the counter because of her bare feet.

"It was nothing." Thranduil said. "The plate slipped from my hands. I am so sorry, Cassie."

"Hey, no problem. Riley, get the vacuum. Ladies, I think we should move to the living room. Come on, sweetie, let's go and see what your brothers are up to. Lee, you do not have to clean up!"

"No, no, I will be fine. Take care of your guests and your daughter." Thranduil said, waving her off. He deposited the larger shards into the trash can, as well as the larger food bits. When Riley came they cleaned up pretty quickly, with a mop and a vacuum put together.

~_Where are you?~_ Thranduil asked his son, whilst he was cleaning.

_~At the sea port.~_

_~Stay put. I will come and get you.~_

* * *

_New York,_

When he found a parking for his car, he all but ran to where he was supposed to meet Legolas and the others. Almost breathless, he suddenly spotted a large group of good-looking men and women lounging around, some were sitting on their suitcases and others leaning against concrete poles.

He recognized many of the faces but at the moment he searched for just two. He found the first one and he ran to her, hugging her with all his might.

Arodien laughed.

_"Well, that settles the thought whether you missed us or not."_ She teased.

_"Armes,"_ he said, lifting her and swinging her around, making her shriek.

_"Put me down!"_

He broke off, grinning. She was dressed in a loose, full-sleeved and cream-colored blouse, with loose cream-colored pants and dark brown boots. Her hair was freely flowing, the same length as she always kept it, a pair of sunglasses hanging from the neckline of her blouse. Her hair parted in the wind and he could see her ears were… rounded.

_"Armes, your ears-"_

_"Fake; the rubber is made to hide the points. That is how Círdan gets by and it works wonderfully. You could use them as well, though Legolas utterly refuses-"_

_"Armes,"_ Thranduil interrupted. "_The last thing I want to do after reuniting with you after years and years apart is to talk about 'fake ears'."_

She laughed and they embraced again. Then he heard soft laughter.

_"Look at that. He completely ignores us."_

_"Well, now, I cannot help but feel offended. After all, we also came here to see him."_

_"Maybe if we were beautiful enough-"_

_"Well, we are beautiful. We are absolutely stunning."_

_"Do not be ridiculous. Warriors? Beautiful? Ha! You make me laugh."_

_"Of course, you think yourselves so beautiful in your pretty green frocks-"_

Sighing, Thranduil broke away.

_"Did you have to bring them along_?" He asked wearily, watching the Rangers and Warriors argue among themselves, their wives rolling their eyes at them and standing together, chatting amiably.

_"Do not be like that. They wanted to meet their old king."_

_"I am not old."_ He muttered.

_"There is another to meet you."_ He looked and saw his son standing nearby patiently. Once again, the joy overtook him, pure and simple joy. Legolas was dressed in a half-sleeved light blue shirt, and blue jeans, hands deep in his pockets. His hair was cut in a rough sort of way but it suited him, making him seem young, and more mischievous.

_"Little one,"_ he said warmly, pulling his son into a tight embrace.

_"I am hardly little."_

_"You will always be little to me."_

He looked up and saw Legolas' wife hovering close by, dressed in similar shirt and pants like his own wife, her silver hair pulled up in a clip. He lifted one hand and she embraced him.

"_How is my daughter?"_ He asked.

_"Well, father."_ Életh answered. "_Though a little weak around the knees after spending days on sea."_

He would have replied if the arguing had not risen to another pitch.

_"Oh, so you insult my honor, eh?"_

_"Well, I did not insult your honor, my dear Warrior, given that you have done it yourself."_ Dorián replied coolly. His fellow former comrades sniggered. And the Warrior he recognized as Maemen laughed, shaking his head. For all their insults and throwbacks, Rangers and Warriors were still very friendly with one another.

"Shouldn't we be heading now?" Legolas asked.

"You speak English?" Thranduil asked curiously and in some surprise.

"Long story," Legolas said after a pause. Thranduil made a mental note to ask him later.

"I have absolutely no idea how I am going to fit you all in my apartment." Thranduil admitted, realizing the company was little less than fifty. "But come; let us see if I can get some cabs." He did, in fact, hired two cabs, and told each of them to follow his car.

"I will pay." He assured them.

"Whoa!" Rob whistled as he saw Thranduil's group enter the building.

"You are having a party up there, sir?"

"Friends of a friend, Rob," Thranduil lied easily. "Meet my wife and son."

Rob's jaw dropped as Thranduil placed his arms around Arodien and Legolas.

"Oh and my daughter-in-law," He added, looping Életh into the group. He grinned when Rob's eyes bulged further.

"How-"

"Plastic surgery at its best, Rob," Thranduil replied, grinning. "Listen, I am gonna order pizza, so let the deliveryman up, would you?"

Once they entered his apartment, he greeted everyone properly, joyfully. He saw his faithful advisor Thorontur, his royal guard Mithon, his dear old friend Fion, his spy Dorián and many others like Maemen, Olben.

"This calls for a celebration." Thranduil announced, reaching for his landline and intending to call for pizza. There was no way he could cook for so large a company!

"Is there any place we can refresh ourselves?" one of the Ellyth asked. He nodded, forgetting what he was going to do, and showed them the guestroom and its adjoining bathroom. Soon the door closed and he could hear the Ellyth laughing and chatting behind it.

He led the Ellyn to his own bedroom, showing them the bathroom before returning to the kitchen to order pizzas.

"Coffee first, pizza second," Legolas called, appearing from Thranduil's bedroom. He went on to help his mother and his wife in the kitchen, where they were poking around to make coffee. Thranduil noted briefly how at ease they were in these modern surroundings. It did not seem as if they had directly and recently come from Aman. "And we need to see who will sleep where. This apartment is getting cramped."

"Somebody open all the windows." Thranduil called, helping Maemen in lifting his coffee table and depositing it against a wall. They rolled up what rugs they found, pushing them against the wall to make more space.

"The sofa turns into a bed." Thranduil said. "We can do that later."

"Thranduil?" Arodien asked, rising up an apron for him to see. The words 'Kiss the Chef' were prominent in the lighting.

"A joke by a friend," Thranduil replied, flushing as Olben and the others tried hard to stifle their laughter but failed miserably. He was going to strangle Riley!

Fion and Thorontur soon appeared.

"Coffee's ready." Arodien called from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up. They had pulled out all the mugs Thranduil had, included some glasses to make odds and ends meet. Fion and Thorontur helped themselves.

"Where is your wife and family, Fion?" Thranduil asked, tugging down his sleeves and helping Maemen and Életh in taking out plates and stacking them up on the counter for pizza. "Pull out some ketchup from the second cabinet, lower shelf, Legolas."

"Back in Aman," Fion said, slowly sipping his coffee. "They said they were content where they were."

Was it just him, or did he hear a hint of worry in his friend's voice?

"They will be there, in a land of peace." Thranduil said.

"I hope so." Fion answered after a pause. Almost all of the company knew English, Thranduil thought briefly.

"We will need documents for our names. Up till now we have simply been using fakes and taking advantage of Círdan's position." Maemen, Olben and Dorián joined the two Ellyn in drinking coffee. He heard louder voices of the Ellyth once the guestroom opened.

"Relax," Thranduil said. "I will see if I can cook something up to make you all fit right in."

He heard Fion and the other snigger in their cups.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"You speak slang?" Fion asked, making laughter circulate throughout the Ellyn. Thranduil laughed.

"You cook?" Legolas asked in disbelief, picking up a notebook that had Thranduil's handwriting in it. He kept his favorite most recipes in that book.

"I may know how to make a few dishes."

"Is it edible?" Fion asked.

"You have turned domestic." Olben added.

"Galion would be so pleased." Thorontur teased.

"I make a beautiful baked chicken and mean pasta." Thranduil retorted. "Contrary to your belief, I haven't kept a servant in years."

The bell rang, and Thranduil answered it, fishing around for his wallet and accepting four heavy and large pizzas.

"I hope you all like cheese." Thranduil called, handing the bulk to Olben who took it the living room. A few more Ellyth joined Arodien and Életh in the kitchen, and they found some more odd plates and shallow plates.

"You sure are having quite a large party, sir." The deliveryman commented, handing him four more pizzas that he passed to Maemen before accepting three more. Thranduil grinned and thanked him before closing the door.

There was scattered laughter and easy chatter in Sindarin as they set the counter with open boxes of pizza and helped themselves.

Unbeknownst to Thranduil, he was being silently observed and appreciated as he slipped back into his role as a king and a friend around them. When he came to meet them, he seemed anxious to greet them but at the same time… wary and reserved. As if the years in Arda taught him to stay on alert and to never relax. But here among the other elves he knew and trusted for years and years when Earth was known as Middle-Earth and their friendships were young but strong, he seemed completely at ease.

They could not help but notice that as Thranduil raced here and there to help was how regal he looked. Dressed in red full-sleeved shirt and black pants, he still exuded that refined power, that unconscious air of royalty in spite of a humble apartment. It was so prominent in his bearing, in his way of moving.

_"He hasn't changed._" Fion said, fondly glancing towards Thranduil.

_"No, he hasn't_." Legolas replied.

There was a pause.

_"Don't tell him everything."_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**List of OCs:**

**Elves: **

Olben- He appears as a Warrior in BAW. He is a Mirkwood Silvan Elf.

Mithon- He is Thranduil's royal guard. He is Mirkwood Silvan Elf.

Életh- She is Legolas' wife. She is a Teleri Elf.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Once they all had 'dinner' and the empty boxes were deposited near the trash can and the leftovers pushed into the fridge, they set about trying to decide who would sleep where. The suitcases were pushed to one side, though the Ellyth used the closets in the guest bedroom and placed the empty suitcases in storage. They spread the rugs again, this time at odd places like the kitchen and the lounge before cushioning them with what bedspreads Thranduil had.

"I am going to throw you all out in the near future when I want my kitchen back." Thranduil said dryly. "Starting with the Ellyn. The Ellyth can stay." They briefly discussed whether they should sleep Ellyth and Ellyn separate but later decided for the married couples to share a space or a corner. Once that was settled and the other elves were chatting and laughing amongst themselves, Thranduil and his family retreated into his bedroom, along with Fion, Thorontur, Dorián and his wife Arodis.

"Where is Nimdir?" Thranduil asked, while naming his only grandchild. He paused then asked, "How is Nimdir?"

"He is well, but he wished to stay in Aman." Legolas said, Életh sitting down beside him on the carpet.

"You left your only son who is well known for causing more mischief than the entire house of Oropher could do alone… in Aman… without supervision?" Thranduil asked, raising his brow.

"He is past his majority." Legolas defended, grinning. Életh only gave a weary smile. Nimdir had Teleri, Silvan and Sindarin blood. He possessed his father's talent of archery and an untamed wildness in his heart like the Sea from his Teleri descent. The elf had caused great troubles for his mother when he was young until Oropher decided to take him under his tutelage to restrain some of that wildness. It worked, up to an extent though the elf had a mischievous streak as both Thranduil and Legolas possessed.

"I am the only sane one in this house." Oropher had once said in jest. They had been standing on a balcony, watching Nimdir, full-grown, fleeing from an irate messenger he had pranked, his silver hair flowing behind him as he made his escape. He had then turned to Thranduil and shook his finger at him. "This is your entire fault, these are your descendants."

"Well, father, I think it was rather you, considering the idea that you are my father and I am the cause." Thranduil raised his brows for more hint.

"You insolent-"

Later, Nimdir asked in puzzlement why he spotted his grandfather running away from his great-grandfather.

"Do you remember that girl we saw in a festival near the beach?" Legolas asked, breaking Thranduil's thoughts.

"The silver-haired dancer? What about her?"

"Well, she is the reason why he stayed." Legolas said grinning. "But I did not tell you that. Nimdir was in constant denial. But we gave our blessing nevertheless."

"Father would know for sure." Thranduil replied. Oropher had become Nimdir's confidant. He always seemed to give out a calm and gracious aura, something that proved to be quiet beneficial.

"So why are you all here?" Thranduil asked, stirring.

"It is actually a long story." Legolas said. "We were hoping to get some rest before telling you. I would rather we do so without any interruption for rest and some such."

Thranduil gave his son a long look. It was now starting to become visible to him, how tired they all really were. He frowned, looking from one face to another before finally settling his gaze at his wife. She too, looked weary, as if the journey had tired her. What had happened?

"Very well." Thranduil said at length. "Get some rest and regain your strength. We will talk tomorrow."

He noted how the wary looks on Thorontur and Fion passed quickly to that of weary relief. Then he noticed everyone was rising from their seats except for Arodien.

"No, no. some of you can stay here." Thranduil protested, offering his bedroom.

"Oh, no." Thorontur said hurriedly. "The last thing we want is to stay in a bedroom of a couple who have met after many years apart." Legolas burst out laughing as he left the bedroom, and Thranduil flushed.

He woke up late the next morning and had to rush. Ignoring everyone's smirks directed his way, he grabbed a few granola bars from a cabinet, slinging on his shoulder bag and grabbing his car keys. He could barely hear Olben's moaning wafting in the air.

"My back, my poor back… oh the ground was so hard, I could easily be sleeping on a stone bed."

"Old age tends to do that to you." Dorián said flippantly. The former Ranger tried to put as many people as he could between himself and Olben as the Warrior tried to get his hands at the younger elf.

"Come back you little miscreant-"

* * *

_NYPD,_

_74th Precinct,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

"Yo," Riley said to him, drawing his attention from the whiteboard. "Listen, man, is everything cool with you?"

"Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Why do I ask?" The fair-headed detective asked in disbelief. "Lee, you ran off without an explanation from dinner, just after your side seized."

"My side didn't seize, Riley." Thranduil said patiently. "My plate just slipped."

"Bull."

"Honest," Thranduil said, holding up his right hand up solemnly. "Besides, my phone buzzed. My family came down to pay me a visit."

There was silence.

"Alright, that's it. You are coming with me. Grab your jacket."

"What? Why?"

"I am taking you to the hospital!" Riley snapped. "Having an imaginary wife is not healthy, no matter how-"

"I can assure you she is not imaginary." Thranduil said wearily. He and Riley worked together for nearly a decade. And this conversation had happened nearly every day for the past nine years.

"Detective Jackson! You had better have a good reason for making off alone without your partner!" Captain Shaw's stern voice came from her office. She was standing in a well-ironed, spotless, and wrinkle-free business style outfit by the door. Riley nearly scrambled back to his seat.

"I was just straightening my jacket and see if it were still wearable, sir." Riley said feebly. Thranduil turned around to face the whiteboard, hand pressed against his mouth in what looked like a contemplative pose while in reality he was trying to control his laughter.

"You so deserved that." Thranduil told his partner.

"Shut up." Riley grumbled, reaching for the reports of their latest case. "And start talking." Thranduil sobered at once.

"Well, none of this makes any sense." Thranduil said, pacing in front of the whiteboard, one hand unconsciously capping and uncapping a black marker. "There is nothing to suggest Bella was in any sort of trouble."

"The construction site came up empty. Whoever did this was careful to clean up after himself." Riley said.

"Yeah and not only that, the body has been moved and wiped down to remove any prints to indicate where she could have come from. I mean, nothing in her life indicates any sort of illegal or troubling activity." He stopped in front of the victim's photo, smiling at the camera and very much alive. "So what was this girl up to?"

"And Monique said there was nothing else, no punctures or anything to suggest how they got the blood out, except for that bite mark."

"And the bite mark was human made."

"You know, there are people who are into blood play…"

"Right, right, except she is found nowhere near such sort of clubs and her family, friends and boyfriend are adamant she was not into such kind of things. And her roommates swear she was in her bed an hour before our window of death." He tapped his foot. "And the building she lives in is nowhere near enough to the construction site… our crime scene has to be near where she lives." He turned around and faced Riley. "That's gotta be our only explanation."

"Does the coffee shop she works at have any security cameras?"

"Yep. Fake ones. So no luck there."

"And the street cameras?"

"Nothing showed up." Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, we are blind and at a dead end until we find her crime scene. Without it, we will have no luck in solving this case."

"Let's go around her place and see if we can match anything to a possible crime scene."

"Or wait," Thranduil said, reaching for his notes and flipping through them.

"What?"

"Something doesn't add up. Her roommates said she hadn't left her bedroom. When she checked up on her, she was in her bed around 5:30ish. Why not search the entire building before making way around the neighbourhood?"

"You are saying where she lives could very well be her crime scene?"

"She smokes." Thranduil said. "I just remembered her friends talking about it. Twice daily, one morning and evening. She could have gotten out for one-"

"That still doesn't give us a motive as to why kill her. I mean, almost the majority of people in NYC smoke."

"I know. But at the moment I am grappling to anything I find remotely possible. Let's ride." He grabbed his jacket he had draped over the back of his seat, glancing back briefly at the white board.

Why is the paw print so familiar?

"Was there any luck on the tattoo?"

"Well, it does not belong to any animal we have looked into so far. And none of her friends or family knows about it. Her boyfriend said she never had it before, so it fits with what Monique had said. That tattoo was left by the killer."

Once they reached the building, it took them only a few moments to speak to the owner and get the permission to investigate. Riley decided to poke around in the lower floors and outside in the alleys while he spoke to the owner.

"You know," she said thoughtfully. The owner was an elderly African American woman, slightly bent with age. "There is this incomplete floor that opens by the elevator. I warn my tenants off it but some still go there. Oftentimes I find some cigarette stubs there. But I haven't gone up there in a long while."

"I would like to see it." Thranduil said. It was not a request and she knew it.

"Second top floor, you can't miss it."

Incomplete floor was an understatement. It was solidly built, but there was not much there to look at. There were no walls separating the different apartments supposed to be built there, except for one corner of the floor that drew his eye. The rest of the place was empty, but true to the owner's words, he spotted some cigarette stubs in one corner. The windows were covered with black plastic, darkening the floor in a sinister manner.

There was a narrow corridor, a little wider than the width of one man. He walked through, keeping a wary lookout. The silence was stifling him and it pricking on his sense. Pulling out a pocket torch, he switched it on as it progressively got darker; looking around for any clues but finding none. He continued to follow the corridor until he reached the end.

There was dried blood on the floor, sloppily wiped. He smiled grimly. He just found out his crime scene. He kept looking around, until something dark on the wall caught the corner of his eye. He looked up and his breath caught in his throat.

There on the wall, written in blood that had dried to an almost blackish-red were three words written in Sindarin.

_Aran Thranduil Oropherion._

Below it was the same paw print design as the one on Bella, the lines of blood crawling downward before drying out. His grip on his torch tightened. Thousands of thoughts went through his head before falling to a single thought; he had to get NYPD away from this.

"Lee!"

Too late. Riley was here. There was no way he could wipe the place down or even hide it from him in time. He did not want to wipe it down, wanting to bring in his own people, people he trusted to do the job instead of the people he was working for. His best bet at the moment was to show this to Riley, risk himself and oversee the case. He had to be close by and see where the case ended.

"Lee! Couldn't you hear me, I had been calling for- aw, hell." Riley's torchlight danced this way and that in his gloved hand, mouth agape in shock. "What does the writing even mean? Ah, never mind. I am calling. Is that all her blood?" Riley speed dialled and once he hung up, he continued to poke around. "Man, I gotta tell you this looks animalistic to me."

Suddenly it clicked. Now he knew why the paw print was so familiar. He could not place it, having not seen it for so many Ages. But now he knew.

That paw print was the type only a Warg would leave behind.

* * *

_Bronx,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

The Bronx surely was a rough, tough place, Dorián mused.

He shrugged on his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder with the other hand in his jeans' pocket. He was starting to attract attention, with men looking at him like a piece of meat. He glanced down at his clothes wryly. He probably stood out, given the better quality of his clothes and the way he walked showed he was not from around the neighbourhood.

He ducked into a smaller alley, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket to briefly read the direction on it before placing it back in his pocket. He was in the right place, he guessed.

The house he was going to was run down, completely unimpressive from the outside. He wrinkled his nose but then decided he had gone to worse places before heading up the steps and giving the doorbell a ring.

The guy who answered the bell was a bald, bearded, and well-muscled but lean African American.

"Hey, Jimmy." Dorián greeted him.

"Aw, look, Margaret is back." Jimmy crowed, throwing a heavily tattooed arm across his shoulder.

"Come on, don't call me that."

"Too late, Margaret. First names always stick." Jimmy said, grinning as he dragged the elf into the house, closing and locking the door behind him. He spotted a heavy duty rifle behind the door, not able to see what model it was when Jimmy turned him around.

"Planning to drill holes in me?"

"Well, you never know these days that might end up at your doorstep. Besides, you'd get a few holes and you'd still look good."

"Unless I return the favour."

Jimmy whistled. He led the elf down the basement. "Ooooh, pretty elf got spunk!" Dorián only shook his head.

"How does a man with a medical doctor's degree end up as demented as you-" This time it was Dorián who whistled. "Well, you know, for a headquarters here in NY, this doesn't look so bad."

The basement was solidly built and more extended that the house itself. There were stations lined up, manned by men and women. On a wall was the symbol of a white tree adorned with stars about it. It was a variation of the emblem of Gondor, for instead of white stars, these stars were painted red. The rest though was the same.

"Jason's over there." Jimmy said, pointing at a man who was standing with his back at him. "Good luck." Sticking his hands back in his pocket, Jimmy left, whistling as he did so.

Jason was a muscular man with typical American features. His silver-blond hair was cropped military-style and was dressed in green combat pants and shirt. Sensing someone was watching him, Jason turned on impulse, and Dorián met the electric-blue eyes with his own. The stern-looking face broke into a smile.

"You know, judging from the looks of the house, I wasn't expecting this." Dorián said to him, reaching him.

"You Elves. Always the tone of surprise when dealing with us mortals."

"I see you are still alive." Dorián said to him, embracing wrists in a soldierly greeting.

"I see you finally made it here. You are slow on your feet."

"I will have you know we had to clean up after you." Dorián retorted, shrugging off his backpack and handing it to him. "Here. We found this laptop in one of their hideouts. I think it should be useful."

"I will have analysts look into it." Jason said, peeking in before zipping the bag again. "Are all of you here?"

"Some of us are still in hiding. We did not want to bring too much attention to our king by us appearing in such large numbers. We are a large number as it is."

"That you are." Jason said.

"What about you? How was your mission? The reason why you came back here?"

"Not as successful as we had hoped, but successful enough. We got one of your people. Thought maybe you could I.D. him for us."

"Where is he?"

"Down here. Come, I will show you."

"Down here? Is he not injured?"

"He is. And he can't bear the light. That's why he is down here."

Jason handed the backpack to an assistant, briefly telling him to give to the analysts before leading Dorián into one of the corridors. The entire place was unadorned, accepted for the emblems decorating the walls every now and then.

An Elf lay on a bed, looking extremely frail against the shockingly white sheets. His cheeks were gaunt, casting a shadow to his lower half of the face. His black hair was thin, matted and sticking to his face. He was breathing shallowly and his eyes looked far too big on such a sick looking face. Dorián's hands shook as he touched his arm briefly. Apparently the touch frightened him, so the emaciated elf moaned in fear, eyes still closed.

"Hush. You are safe now." He whispered, gentle fingers stroking his forehead. The other hand assessed his physical health. His ribs stood out, rising and failing with his breath, limbs shrunken from disuse and lack of food.

"Why is he like this?" Dorián asked. Agitation made him slip back into his own tongue.

"He is sick."

"We do not get sick easily."

"Even elves do, it seems, when you suddenly shift them from cold, dirty and dank place to clean air, clean clothes, clean water and actual food. Do you know him?"

"Aye, I do." He said. "He is Mithon's son. Melion, son of Mithon."

At his name, the Elf's eyes fluttered open.

"Who did this to you?" Dorián asked.

"Men… and Elves."

"Who were they?"

"Men with darkness in them… and Elves corrupted and twisted beyond repair…"

"What did they want?"

"Thralls."

"For what purpose?"

"Work… and leverage." Melion's voice was not like it once was. It was rough, far too rough for an Elf's to be. He glanced back to see Jason standing with his hands clasped behind his back, face tight in sorrow. Melion would not be able to recover completely from this experience.

"How were you taken from your home?"

"There were-" Melion swallowed. Jason's hand descended on Dorián's shoulder.

"Enough." He said quietly. "He is weak. He is ill. He is very frightened. Let him speak of this only once and with your king. Let him rest and recover till then." Dorián nodded. He pressed a gentle kiss over the Elf's brow. Melion had been the youngest and only child in Mirkwood when the war was brewing. He was well-loved and he had often played in Thranduil's Halls. He married after he reached Aman, to a Noldorin girl there.

He was just about to turn away when a weak hand clasped his wrist.

"My daughter was with me there." Melion rasped. "Where is she?"

Dorián looked at Jason, who only shook his head and mouthed 'amusement'. The elf's throat tightened. He looked back to Melion and realized in horror that the sick elf saw the silent word, for he had closed his eyes tightly. It still wasn't enough to keep the tears from leaking out.

"Melion, listen to me." Dorián said. Melion had Avari blood. He could Fade more easily. "You have to survive this. You have to stay strong. We will not abandon you. The king is with us, you hear?" Melion's eyes shot open. "The king is with us."

"King Thranduil?"

"Aye."

"I will follow my king anywhere." Melion said before closing his eyes and falling asleep. Satisfied that he would not Fade now, Dorián left his side.

"I did not expect him to live." Jason said. "But he responded well to Jimmy and that was well for us."

"That demented doctor is of some use after all." The seriousness of the situation ruined the jest in Dorián's words.

"Look," Jason said, pulling Dorián to a side. "We need to start moving. The ball is rolling and we need to act fast. You are still lacking a stronghold. So get one so that we can establish relations and strengthen our ground further."

"It is going to take some time." Dorián said, sighing. "We have only just met our king last night."

"Yeah, you are gonna go back and find he has been threatened. They are one step ahead. Remember that. Now get your king under line and let's get this done."

"I will speak to Legolas and see what we can do."

Jason stared at him.

"Your people put a lot of trust in this king of yours."

"He is a good king. he is just and we have no complains of him."

"Hmm, let us hope he is indeed as great as they say."

* * *

_Crime Scene,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

"What did you get?" Thranduil asked.

"So far we found out the blood is from Bella. We found a set of fingerprints but it is not in the system. And we still have no idea what those words mean." Riley said, ticking off the points on his fingers. "Oh, and judging from the amount of blood here, I would say that the killer simply wanted to bleed her out for enjoyment… the rest of the blood, he probably drank." The words made Thranduil curled his lips in disgust. "We will be having someone with a superior knowledge of various languages look up what those words mean."

He was still deep in thought until he realized Riley was looking at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing?" Riley asked, spreading his arms out. "You are usually either throwing flippant remarks or trying theories to fit the scene."

"The guy is a sick man with a love of blood and a taste in language." Thranduil said. "What's there to tell?"

And a long memory to know who I really am…

"You know what I think? I think our case just got complicated." Riley said, turning with his hands on his hips as he watched their team sweep the area.

_You have no idea…_

* * *

_Thranduil's Apartment,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

He had been far too worried when he came back, that when he realized some of the company had gone out for sight-seeing, he immediately had Olben call them all back to his apartment. After ordering Chinese and having dinner together, Thranduil herded his family and a few others into his room and closed the door behind him. He needed answers.

"There is a reason why you are all here." Thranduil said finally. "This is not just a regular visit. You are here for something. All of you know how to speak English, and all of you are completely at ease with these modern surroundings. I can only think of one thing. You came here to Arda earlier and settled here for some years before coming to me. Why did you not come earlier? Because you were waiting for something, or you were gathering something. Why did you come to me now? Because you have a need of me now. So the question is; why?" he stopped in front of where his family was sitting.

"And Legolas, you had better start from the beginning."

"You are right, father. There is a reason why we are here. And I will tell you all." Fion looked at him sharply but Legolas either did not notice or chose to ignore it. "But it will start first with this." Legolas dug into his pocket, pulling out something and opening his palm for Thranduil to see. It was a small, wooden box, the lid of which bore an emblem of the House of Fëanor etched in gold. He glanced around to see everyone looking at him with bated breaths. Legolas lifted the lid and offered him to see. Curious, he stared down at the open wooden box.

Nestled in spotless white velvet was a mithril ring, adorned with a single white gem.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

There will be, no doubt, spelling and grammatical mistakes in this story. I apologise but at the moment, life is too busy for me to do otherwise.

Do leave a review. :)

**List of OCs:**

Melion- He is the son of Mithon, who is Thranduil's royal guard. He has a Silvan father and an Avari mother.

Nimdir-He is Legolas' son, Thranduil's grandson.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Thranduil's Apartment,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

_"Once you left there were strange disappearances everywhere in Aman. It was as if something drastic has happened, a change that we could not fight. At the time we did not think too much into this, but there were hints of sabotage and force everywhere, as if something or someone had tried to build unrest in Aman on purpose. We heard of your shipwreck and we spoke to Manwë about this. He spoke to Ulmo, who swore that he had nothing to do with it. But you were safe and the lost elves who were escorting you were in the Halls of Mandos. Nothing came more out of this matter."_

_"Then disappearances occurred all the way from Alqualondë to other parts of the city. The Valar called upon the three ring-keepers, Mithrandir, Elrond and Galadriel. Whatever they discussed, we do not know. The times were starting to become too frightening. There was great unrest. No festival went beyond nightfall. At last grandfather, mother and I demanded to have audience with Manwë. What this evil was, he did not wish to name just yet. But it was certain that whoever was attacking Aman from inside was likely to have a foothold there and a stronghold here in Arda."_

_"We were supposed to come here and seek what information we could find_." Fion spoke up. "_The Valar's hold goes only so far. The forests are not what they once were and the Valar were loath admit that they no longer had the same power on Arda as they once did before. We were given a ship and we intended at first to only seek what we could find without contacting you at all. There was no need to let you know something that at first we believed to be controllable. When we were set to sail, we were told by Ulmo not to trust the ship but rather trust the waters to take us where we are needed. We did not think too much of this advice though it turned out to be effective."_

_"What happened?"_ Thranduil asked.

"_Mutiny_," Thorontur said, resting his back against a wall. _"It was near midnight and we were near land when it happened. We were asleep and the very elves that were sailing the ship turned against us. they nearly tied us down, intending to take them to their 'leader' whoever he is. But the waters suddenly changed from calm to stormy. Ulmo was on our side. Our ship crashed into a nearby cluster of rocks and we made with our escape."_

_"We landed along the coastline of Greece_." Legolas said. _"At the time we did nothing but catch our breaths, letting the rainwater from the storm soak us. it was a blessing, I think, for had it not been for the storm, we would have been found out by the elves who were now our enemies or by the men who did not know who we are. And that was not the sort of attention we needed."_

_"The timing was better though, for it had barely been two hours that the sea calmed and we were come upon by a group of men and women who knew exactly who we were and spoke to us in Sindarin. They wore red and black uniforms, and their emblems were peculiar. A white tree with stars above its branches,"_ Thranduil's brows rose at that. _"But the stars were red instead of white. They called themselves the Fellowship, built after the Fellowship was no more and Elessar in his dying breath asked a group to swear themselves into serving the Free Peoples whenever the times arose. They were led there by Irmo's dreams that they had seen in their sleep. They took us in."_

_"Their leader is a man by the name of Jason, and he is every bit of a military commander when you look at him. We were too much in shock to see Arda so different and the sense of betrayal from the mutiny we saw on the ship. But soon we realized they were friends. They taught to speak English and made us familiar with the items here. Valinor has been progressing ever since you left but it is by no means as advanced as Arda, and certainly not so in warfare. We spent our days under hiding, because while the elves escorting us were dead, others were certainly alive who sent them to us in the first place. We were taught how to use guns, and we learned enough to aid Jason in finding out how we were dealing with, and up to a part, find the missing elves we lost in Aman."_

_"You see, we lost a few of our own as well. Mithon lost his son Melion, on the night of his granddaughter's betrothal feast."_ Unable to deal with his shock, Thranduil only closed his eyes_. "Fion lost his wife while they slept." His eyes flew open and met his friend's sad ones._

_"I heard nothing."_ Fion said, shaking his head_. "And there was no traces of her but her things were where they always were."_

_"At the time, for the last seven years, we were making slow progress. Slowly and steadily, more and more elves came to join us and the Fellowship and we trained with them. Most of them were soldiers, doctors and spies, and we learned under them as much as we could. The Fellowship had an extensive network and some of us constantly stayed in motion, shifting from one country to the next to determine where this enemy's stronghold was."_

_"It turned out to be a drastically large network than we initially thought. You see, we were looking for only one stronghold, but they seemed to have at least two with many other footholds throughout Arda. The Fellowship was extensive but not extensive enough. So we shifted our search for other strongholds that may be of a friendlier nature. And by this I mean considering the possibility of seeing a Dwarven stronghold."_

_"We had no such luck but we did find a potential foothold which held prisoners. The idea came to our mind to break in there and free some, return them to safety and ask them what they had seen. This foothold was here in Chihuahua Desert. We found this some months ago. It was risky but it was possible, provided it was given delicate planning to avoid both the enemy onslaught as well as for the unaware army of this country."_

_"And then?_" Thranduil prodded when Thorontur stopped. Legolas took up the narrative.

_"We were found out. At the time, we were in Rome. Our position was compromised. Jason and the others had already left to rescue prisoners. As for us, we and other parts of the Fellowship had to act quickly if we had to make it out alive. It took heavy shooting and a fire to destroy all records there before we moved out but not until we were pushed into an offensive temporarily. We wiped them out in their hideout in the outskirts of Rome and we were able to secure some data that we divided, some we gave to a group of elves who were returning with the Fellowship to another foothold, and the rest of us were moving away in hopes to divide them in two branches."_

_"Until they realized that you were here,_" Arodien said quietly. _"They had finally tracked you down and we knew we could not leave you to fend for yourself against them. We had to come out of hiding and warn you. so we shook them off our tail a few weeks back, never sleeping too long and never staying in a place for longer than one night and kept crisscrossing different countries until we finally lost them. we headed to France and sought Círdan's help, after which we took a ship here to NYC."_

_"Jason's mission was not as successful as we hoped it to be._" Legolas continued. _"We had hoped to free more prisoners but he could only free one and this is Melion, son of Mithon. He is alive but very weak and ill. The Fellowship has a foothold here and Jason and his men were able to smuggle him all the way over here."_

_"How does the ring fit into this?_" Thranduil asked. Now Legolas looked distinctly uncomfortable.

_"That part is a bit complicated. You see, when we were being chased by our pursuers, Oromë came to us one night. He spoke to us that the only way to start gaining ground here in Arda is to begin by having a stronghold of our own. We could only depend upon the Fellowship for so much. We needed to be independent. He gave this to us, saying that there are gifts the Valar can bestow to give aid and this one was for you… since you will be our king."_

There was silence before the tension started to stretch between them until it was strong enough to cause suffocation. Finally Thranduil looked down at the ring and the venom in his gaze was so great that Legolas, who was holding the wooden box, nearly recoiled. Thranduil's hand shot out suddenly and grabbed the wooden box, snapping the lid shut.

_"I need to be alone."_ Thranduil muttered. He got up, reaching for his keys on his bedside table.

"_Where are you going?"_

_"Out_," Thranduil's voice brooked no argument.

"_Thranduil, take someone with you-"_ Arodien pleaded.

_"No."_ Thranduil said again, this time with more force. _"And on his head be it if he is foolish enough to pursue me_." He left without a word, closing the door behind him. In the silence of the bedroom, it could easily resemble a slam. Legolas got up as if to follow him. Arodien stopped her son with a single motion.

_"Don't. Let him be."_

_"But mother-"_

_"We have sprung all of this on him within a few hours and we have barely been here for a day. He deserves a bit of silence and solitude to think this through."_

_"But he is our king."_ Thorontur said quietly.

_"And he will remain our king, but he has not been one for years. Leave him be. I know my husband. He simply needs time."_

_"I knew he'd get angry."_ Legolas muttered.

_"He is not angry at us. He is angry at the Forester for hiding this from him."_

oOo

_Central Park,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

"_You have a wonderful way of meddling into other people's businesses when it does not concern you." _Thranduil snapped at his companion walking beside him. Tauron, who had faced Thranduil's ire in the past, was unaffected.

_"I am not meddling in other people's businesses when it is my business to look after their affairs in the first place."_ Tauron said his voice overly patient. Thranduil rounded up at him, glaring. There were few people here at Central Park this late at night, and it was the only place that made sense of Tauron to appear. As he expected, Tauron had already been waiting for him when he got out of his car.

_"Do not play coy with_ _me."_Thranduil hissed. _"I have told you time and again that if you wish to have toys to play with, you are more than welcome to take any of the Noldorin or the Teleri as long as you leave me, my family and my people out of it!"_

_"Thranduil,"_this time Oromë's voice was sincere, his eyes gentle. "_You know me long enough to know that I would never endanger you or the ones you love."_

_"Then tell me why? Why did you allow this to happen?"_

_"Some things were never in our control in the first place, Oropherion. We are not deities to perceive everything under our care, and as such some things pass us by without us realizing it until it manifests."_ Oromë sighed, nudging Thranduil and the pair started to walk again.

_"You will still have questions churning in your mind. Ask, and I will answer."_

_"Why not give this ring to the previous ring-keepers?"_

_"Elrond, Artanis and Mithrandir have their fair share of ring-keeping. They wish no part of taking up the duties that come with a Ring of Power."_

_"What they mean is they no longer wish to take up the burdens that come with a Ring of Power."_ Oromë smiled noncommittally.

_"Why me?"_

_"You are the best choice."_

_"In the immortal words of my partner Riley Jackson; bull."_

The Vala shook his head_. "I_ _never expected you to be taking up a man's words. But I mean it with a sincere heart. You are wiser than you were before, and you have shown strength against those who wish you and your people harm. It was the ring-keepers' idea, including Artanis. They said that your resilience and your constant resistance against the enemy were remarkable. But even this would be too great for you to handle and for this reason, you will need aid."_

_"Why choose me for your stronghold?"_

_"This is not our stronghold, and nor was it our choice. It was that of your people."_

_"You mean a band of fifty people."_

_"Elves are in a larger number here than you think, Thranduil."_

_"Wonderful,"_ Thranduil muttered under his breath._"More things I did not know of."_

Oromë said nothing.

_"Who is this Jason?"_

_"I will leave him to explain."_

_"You know who this enemy is, don't you?"_

_"I… suspect. At the moment, it is best to form a line of defense by forming a fortress to act as a stronghold before looking beyond it to see the enemy."_

_"You know I hate left being in the dark."_

_"And I know you function better without knowing everything."_

_"Who made this Ring of Power?"_

_"Why, Celembrimbor himself."_

_"He was in the Halls of Mandos."_

_"And he was redeemed and brought back to life, and given his grandfather's forge under an unbreakable vow to forge only that which we would allow in the way we allow it."_

_"Why make this Ring?"_

_"Celembrimbor perfected his skills in this craft and we believed it would aid you well."_

_"What does it do?"_

_"It resembles Nenya in some aspects but not completely. Its purpose is protection and concealment, but not preservation. It would protect in both ways, in defense as well as in offense, the details of which you can only see yourself once you wield it. It conceals what the owner wishes to conceal from unfriendly eyes."_

_"Galadriel experienced weariness from her ring, Elrond found the ring take its toll upon him and Mithrandir aged. What effect will it have upon me?"_

_"It will not be as drastic as this, Celembrimbor assured us."_

Thranduil barked a laugh.

_"That is hardly assuring."_

_"If you feel this ring will take control of you, your personality and your relations, than I can swear upon my own honor that it will not do so."_

_"Does this Ring of Power have a master greater than its owner?"_

Oromë skidded to halt.

_"Thranduil,"_ he said slowly, looking straight into his eyes. "_I can assure you this Ring has no master except the one who will wear it. Like I said, Celembrimbor polished this type of craft. He swore that this Ring is not capable of being ensnared as it happened with the other Rings."_ Thranduil studied his face for so long that Oromë's expression became sad.

_"Have you lost so much trust in me after hearing their story that you will no longer take my word?"_

The first time he met Tauron was in the outskirts of Doriath when he barely reached his majority. The Forester considered him with something that Thranduil could only name amusement. The times passed and they met rarely, with Oromë appearing only as a herald or a warner of woe. Thranduil and Oromë exchanged remarks now and then, often barbed and cutting but always underlined with a grudging sort of respect. When Thranduil came to Aman, they met more often and their friendship slowly built over the years.

_"Any more questions?"_

_"One. What name has this ring have?"_

_"It will be a name that Celembrimbor gave it."_

_"Tell it to me nevertheless."_

_"Húro,"_ Oromë said at last. "_And I believe since your grandson has dabbled in history of Quenya, you might know what it means."_

oOo

_New York City,_

_New York._

He called the Captain next morning, pleading headache and asking her to grant him leave and promising to send in the leave application when he had the time. She asked after him but he kept it vague before hanging up. He avoided mostly everyone, speaking little and grabbing his keys and running out of the door before anyone could grab a hold of him. They exchanged looks behind him but decided without words that he simply needed more time.

Central Park was a good place for reflection and to take refuge, particularly in daylight when most of the people were gone to work. He chose a bench overlooking many pathways, enjoying the sight of different people walking about, blissfully unaware of his turbulent thoughts.

What is it like, he wondered, to wake up in the morning and see your wife disappeared from your side with only blood to show her presence? What was it like to live in a place where you are promised security, only to find out there is none? He thought of his family and his heart clenched, imagining them in the same confusion he had felt when he came to Arda and found it drastically changed.

He pulled out the wooden box from his pocket, studying its exterior. The wood was dark brown, with the golden emblem of the House of Fëanor catching the sunlight. It was polished and smooth under his fingertips. Opening the box, he studied the ring more closely. It was like a thick band, well-polished and smooth in appearance. The white gem was rectangular in shape, and long but small, extending over the top surface of the band. It was set into the mithril ring rather than the mithril pulled outward to form a hold for the gem to rest in. but looking closer and with more interest, he noticed two small blue gems on either side of the rectangular white gem, casting a shine of their own. It was masculine in taste, as if it was made with a more specific person in mind, and not like the three famous Rings of Power that were much more general in their design, though no less beautiful. He closed the box and sighed.

Would he take it, he wondered. How far would he have to be push to be driven to wear this Ring of Power? He remembered his time in Eryn Lasgalen, when the evil was strong and it was called Mirkwood by even his own people. He remembered the orcs' taunting, his own self-doubts plaguing him and depriving him of sleep. He remembered the days when he watched in silent helplessness as he heard more and more of his people being dragged into Dol Guldur, with a part of him wondering if he could have stopped it with a Ring of Power.

Then he also remembered the joys that followed when Sauron was defeated. He remembered the weariness on the faces of Elrond, Artanis and Mithrandir, as if they bore the weight of the world upon their shoulders. He remembered how Lórien faded into nothingness. He remembered the side-effects of the Rings, for nothing came without a cost.

Was he willing to take that cost?

_"You are more of a king than I ever was." Oropher said ruefully. Thranduil looked up from his perch beside the window, looking into some of the petitions he had been presented with. Oropher had refused his position as King, letting Thranduil take it in his stead._

_"Do not say that." Thranduil said, frowning as he returned to reading. "You are more talented than I. you knew what to do when, and how to come about it. Thorontur insists I rule more with my heart than my head."_

_"Ah, but the heart I always missed during my reign." Oropher said. Thranduil looked at him in astonishment. His father was calm and quiet type, with little to move his composure. He was withdrawn, few like Celeborn, his wife and himself able to pull him out of his usual manner. It was Annatar's doings that twisted and played with Oropher's personality, making him reckless and misgiving that ultimately led him and his loyal charge to their deaths. "I never wanted to be king. I never wanted that position for myself. Nor for you, in fact. But you took it well, and I am proud. You enjoy this, to serve your people and to aid them as the best it seems to you. I never wanted anything but to be led. And in that regard, I believe your son is more nearer to me than he is to you. You are good in taking charge. You are your people's king, perfectly capable of sleeping in the rain with the soldiers, or cleaning out privies with the servants. I was nothing like you. I am proud of you."_

In a way, he was appalled at his father's words, warmed by the knowledge of his pride in him and a bit intimidated to realize just how much his people placed their trust in him. he did not lack in loyalty, he was sure, but he never really made it a point to see just how many people would follow him.

People's king indeed! But here he was hesitating as he looked down at this ring that seemed so harmless in his hands. Would he take this risk? Tauron assured him this ring answered to no one but he remembered all too well Thorin Oakenshield's grandfather's lust, what the ring did to him and his people and how their greed grew for wealth. He remembered Artanis' words, how she looked upon the One Ring, wishing it to be hers, wanting it to be hers so that she may change the world. He remembered the Nine, and he felt that he could not do anything like this… to be a wraith and a pawn to an evil that he could still not name.

And yet, deep in his heart he realized he would do anything to see his people smile and live freely. he remembered the long hours of kingship whereupon he would be scolded by his son Legolas and Thorontur and Mithon for not being easy upon himself, for taking the blame of every dead elf and every missing elf and every unsuccessful skirmish. But in the end when the tables of the Halls were full of food for a feast and music would rise and echo through the Halls and people would laugh and dance, it was worth it in the end. Would he sacrifice his time here, a peaceful life where he had only one job with another leading him, yes he would indeed. Would he wear the Ring here and now?

No, he wouldn't.

Shaking his head, he tucked the box back into his pocket, well aware the time for him to wear this ring was not far. He got up from his bench, dusting his back before heading back to his car.

oOo

_Thranduil's Apartment,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

A cell phone rang. Fion, Legolas, Thorontur and Thranduil all dug into their pockets.

"It's mine." Thranduil said. He frowned. It was from a fellow homicide detective working in his branch.

"Hello?"

"Lee, get down here and get your partner under control! He is facing off the Captain and causing a racket. He will lose his badge like this!"

"Why?"

"How should I know? He keeps yelling about a girl whose blood sucked dry."

"Good grief." Thranduil muttered, cancelling the call.

"I have to go and get my partner before he completes his death wish. Stay put. There is another thing for me to discuss with you." Puzzled, Fion opened his mouth to speak to him but Thranduil was already out the door. Grabbing his jacket, he made for the door before frowning.

"Where is Dorián?" he asked Olben, who was lounging on a rug, back pressed against a wall. Olben shrugged. "He went out just a few minutes ago."

Later, when he entered the precinct, he found the place in an uproar. Captain Shaw was standing face to face with Riley, who looked red in the face and ill-tempered.

"Captain, this is ridiculous!" He argued, voice raising a pitch. "A girl has been murdered, completely drained of blood, and you want this under wraps!"

"You should be careful in making such quick assumptions, Detective." There was steel in Captain Shaw's voice, making Thranduil quicken his pace. He pushed through the crowd. "And I would advise you to avoid making accusations against your superiors and questioning their stances in individual cases."

"The only thing are superiors care about is the loopholes in the law to keep their positions and have a hoard of money in their bank accounts!"

There was collective inhale at Riley's words. Thranduil could not take it anymore and he shoved aside another police to get to him.

"Detective Riley Jackson-" Captain Shaw began.

"Captain," Thranduil interrupted, pushing Riley back and stepping in between them. he kept one hand clamped around his partner's arm, the other hand held up in a placatory manner. "I apologize for my partner's words. Some of these cases tend to take one at unawares and make us act irrationally." He glanced back at his friend, the look in his eyes warning him to keep his mouth shut. "Do forgive this mistake on his part. It won't happen again."

They stared at one another, Shaw's eyes cold and hard, Thranduil's calm and collected. He lifted his chin in a royal manner, something he never got rid of. Finally she looked away.

"Very well. I will look over this only once, Detective. Should I see this occur again, it will be the gun and the badge that I will be taking."

"Yes, sir." Thranduil said, feeling weight go off his shoulders.

"And I expect a written apology on my desk tomorrow morning."

He nodded and proceeded to drag Riley away from the crowd, which was quite a feat. Riley was a hulking muscle, wider and stronger in build than Thranduil with blond hair and blue eyes that at the moment stared on in unveiled fury.

"Come on, you need to get out of here."

"No car," Riley muttered. "I gave it for service."

"Then come on, I will take you. Sounds like you need a drive."

"This is the part of a town where a girl is gruesomely killed and nobody is decent enough to care." Riley said bitterly. Thranduil only glanced at him before returning his eyes to the road. "Killed… in her own building! And nobody gives a damn." Thranduil continued to remain silent. "What if this is some sort of psycho case who decided to up his game a little? What if he has been killing for years, you know? All those missing persons. Maybe now he wants to taunt us… gloat that we can't pursue him. Curse it, Lee, are you listening!"

"I am."

"You haven't shown an ounce of emotion to all this."

"Riley, what do you want me to do?" Thranduil snapped, stopping his car at a signal. "It's not as if I can exchange blows with the Captain. And what were you thinking? You not only showed disrespect in front of the entire precinct but you also threatened your badge. She can easily revoke it and take your gun and you'd be left without a job!"

"Aw, come on! Stop being hypocritical! I saw you in a shouting match some years back when Shaw first came into the precinct! When we were pursuing a potential bomb threat, remember?"

Thranduil sighed and leaned his head back on his headrest. The signal went green and he resumed driving.

"That was different."

"Different how?"

_Oh, you have no idea…_

"Where are you going?"

"My apartment. I have to pick my family and drop them at a mall for shopping."

Riley chuckled darkly. "I love you and your sense of humor." Thranduil only smiled grimly.

_The phrase 'eat your words' could never be truer, my friend…_

His phone vibrated, and he glanced at the screen to see a message from his son with the word 'Ready'. He was partially relieved. He was not in the mood to wait.

They waited in the parking lot of the building, Riley making snide remarks continuously. He paid it no mind, knowing full well that he was speaking more out of habit than anything else.

"Get on the backseat." Thranduil said suddenly.

"What? Why?"

"Get on the backseat." He repeated. "My wife will be sitting beside me. Go on. Move."

"Come on, man. Drop this façade before it blows up on-"

There were few things Thranduil took great satisfaction in. Some of them were the times when his mischiefs would get the better of Elrond, or he would win an argument with Artanis, or when he was able to catch the enemy at unaware and now, he added seeing Riley's jaw drop to that meager list of the things that gave him immense satisfaction. Something about the way Riley's eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock just stroked Thranduil's amusement. Shame he had to end it.

"Move, you great lug." He said, pushing his shoulder to get his attention. Riley shook his head slightly at the sight of approaching pair before muttering something incomprehensible under his breath and shifting to the backseat."

"Riley," Thranduil announced when Arodien sat down beside him. Legolas took the backseat. "This is my wife, Arianna. Arianna, meet my partner against crime, Riley."

"Oh, good evening," 'Arianna' said warmly, turning in her seat. "I have heard a lot about you."

"The young man seating beside you is our son, Louis." Thranduil said, smirking at the name. Legolas could have picked a less formal-sounding name!

When Riley turned to look at Legolas, Thranduil was actually starting to worry about his health. His friend seemed to have forgotten to breathe and he had also seemed to completely ignore Legolas' presence when he spotted 'Arianna'. He couldn't blame him for the shock. The line of Oropher had become famous for holding resemblances, with only Nimdir breaking the chain. Oropher, Thranduil and Legolas bore startling resemblances with one another, making it hard not to think of them anything other than being closely related. Although some things about Legolas were definitely different, like he was thinner and leaner, and his eyes were bright blue than grey. He too had gained a fatherly touch in him after his son, though it was less pronounced, more like a young father would have rather than a seasoned one like Elrond, Celeborn or himself.

"Hi," 'Louis' said, holding out his hand to shake. Riley shook hands, his own hanging limp in the handshake and then falling limply in his lap. Thranduil's grin, if possible, grew wider. Nearly a decade went by and he never seen Riley in this much shock. The hulk liked to think that he had everything under his control, and placing him in this type of situation must be pretty new.

Arianna and Louis chattered on as if they noticed anything, though Thranduil glanced in the mirror once in a while to check on Riley. He seemed to have processed it somewhat and his jaw worked slightly lesser than it did before. He was clearly still taken, since he blushed every now and then whenever his wife directed a question at him, to which he mumbled an answer.

"We will get the cab back home." Arodien said when he stopped in front of the mall, Legolas already out of the car. "Come on the front seat, Riley. It was a pleasure meeting you." Riley nodded jerkily and slid on the front seat. The moment he did and the moment he knew his family was safe out of earshot did Thranduil burst out laughing.

"You blushed." He pointed out grinning. "I don't think I have ever seen you blush."

"You cruel, man." Riley mumbled at him. "You sprung all of that on me."

"Oh, did I?" Thranduil retorted. "I believe it was you who wouldn't believe me even though I kept repeating myself for, oh; I think the first day we met!"

"So how did you win her?"

"I didn't 'win' her." Thranduil said impatiently. "We fell in love."

"You? With a romantic bone in your body?"

Thranduil glared at him.

"So where'd you meet?"

"Italy on a vacation trip. I had made an unexpected stop in Vienna for a festival." Someday, his lies will catch up to him, Thranduil thought grimly.

"That's romantic."

"She pushed me in the water." That part was at least true.

"Okay, not so romantic." Riley said, laughing.

"At the moment it was very romantic. At least when I look back at it." Thranduil admitted.

"How old is the kid? Seems to be grown enough to be, what, twenty? Twenty-five?"

"Arianna and I married young." Young, Thranduil nearly snorted. He was a fairly old elf when he married Arodien. A companionable sort of silence settled over them.

"Man, you sure are straight." Riley's voice ended in a high-pitched shriek when Thranduil slammed his foot down at the brakes.

"RILEY!"

"What? Get moving, idiot. You stopped in the middle of the road!" Thranduil restarted his car.

"You-you- is this from the gossip going on in the precinct?"

"Uh-"

"Riley," Thranduil warned.

"Well, it might have-"

"That's it. I am coming down the precinct with my wife and I will parade around for the entire day." Riley chuckled.

"That's a sight I am willing to see."

"I swear Riley, I am going to get back at you for that comment."

"Looking forward to it, brother."

oOo

_Bronx,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

The entire basement was in disarray. He saw men and women rushing about, switching off laptops and shoving them in boxes and bags. They were dismantling the tables, switching off all stations and he could hear random shouts and commands as they worked. He delved deeper into the chaos, to find Jason walking with his two assistants, barking commands, and face pulled tense.

"I want this place wiped clean as if we were never here within an hour!" Jason barked. One of his assistants nodded and left. "Somebody get these banners down and pack them away! Jess; make sure they burn all the papers properly. I don't want even a single word visible for them to read. And make sure the hard drives are completely wiped out. I don't want anything to be recovered!" The other assistant disappeared.

"Jason. What happened?" Dorián asked.

"I was hoping for some respite here but turns out we won't get any. There is a mole in our system. They have found us out and we have to get out of here before they do."

"And who could it be?"

"None. And right now, I want all of us outta here with our skins still intact." Jason grabbed Dorián and pulled him to the side of the corridor, keeping a firm grip on his arm until he found a deserted room. He took him in there before releasing him. "We are heading back to base." He said in a low voice. "They moved much more quickly than I thought. You all are not safe here. It is only a matter of time before one or two of you start to go missing. That group you have in hiding, where are they?"

"At one of your branches in Vienna."

"I am pulling them out of there and taking them back to base. I am putting them in training."

"The first batch hasn't even completed training!"

"And now I am putting in another batch. Now I have booked a plan scheduled to leave in three days. It is for you all and your king. Get him out of here before they decide to take him out."

"There is no way we can persuade King Thranduil to leave NYC in three days."

"Too bad. I can guarantee he will not survive beyond that. There are more players with them than I initially realized. We have to regroup and find other strongholds. Now either you lot take that plane in three days or it leaves without any passengers. I ain't gonna risk my men by stationing them here. I have no hold here in America. If the CIA or FBI gets on my case, I will lose my men and from that point on, they will stay lost 'cuz I won't be there to get them out and then they will have them."

"I will see what I can do."

"Not see. Do it."

Dorián only nodded.

"Where's Jimmy?"

"Prepping Melion for the flight. You'll find him in the med corner."

So he did. He saw Jimmy kneeling beside Melion, deft fingers working swiftly in strapping him down on the stretcher for safe transport.

"I see ya got here." Jimmy said, grabbing hold of an open bag and swiping all Melion's meds into it with his arm. He flipped the flap over the bag and strapped it around his waist. "You don't have to worry about him. I will take good care of him, as if he were like my own brother."

"Thank you." Dorián said gratefully. He knelt down and stroked Melion's hair. He seemed to have taken a bed bath since he had been gone. His black hair was shorter but Dorián could not help noticing his hair was lighter than its usual pitch-black shade. This imprisonment had taken a toll on him. Then he noticed how Melion slept peacefully, unaware of the chaos around him.

"What did you give him?"

"Something to make him sleep until we can get him on the plane."

"Is it safe for him to have such a potent drug?"

"Look, I am not proud of it." Jimmy said, the humorous manner in which he had greeted Dorián gone and replaced with professional finality. "But it will keep him relaxed and unstressed. He is confused, with no familiarity of modern technology. We will take him back to Grey Havens where he can recover in surroundings that won't cause him to hyperventilate at everything he sees."

"Jimmy, you had better get everything ready over there." Jason's shout reached them.

"Almost ready!" Jimmy said, then cursed quietly. "It would have been easier to burn the place down."

"Houses are too close. The fire will spread. And I doubt you would want that kind of attention should something in the rubble survive."

"Dorián, get outta here." Jason said, jogging up to them. "Jimmy, is he ready?"

"All set. Just be careful not to jostle him too much."

"I need help over here." Jason shouted. One of the men shoved his things into another's arms and ran to help their leader carefully lift the stretcher up. "I want maximum security around this elf. They should not get to him, capture him, wound him or kill him. He is our best bet in finding out what precisely are they up to."

"What about that laptop I gave you?"

"Highly encrypted. It is gonna take some time to get past it. Now, you really have to get out of here. Use the back door and don't directly go back home. Wait around and see if you are being followed. I trust you came prepared?"

Dorián silently pushed back his jacket, revealing a gun tucked into his belt. Jason nodded in satisfaction.

"Come on. Get moving. We'll finish up. When they reach here, they won't have anything to go on."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Bronx,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

Dorián tugged on his hood, his black hair spilling out and pushing forward over his shoulder. He dug his hands into his pockets, eyes roaming this way and that. He did not look back. Doing so was dangerous and could cause suspicion at both him and the house.

But he had barely walked a few feet ahead when he found himself slowly surrounded by men at all sides. Turning around, he quickly recognized them all as the men who had been watching him when he had first came to the Bronx looking for the house.

"Come on," Dorián said easily, pulling out his hands and spreading them wide. "Can't someone take a walk around here?"

One of the men stepped forward. He was bald, with a scar running down his face that seemed to have come from a claw. His jaw worked for a while before he grinned, baring missing teeth and one golden tooth.

"We figured it was the Fellowship who busted out the elf from there." The man drawled.

"Oh," Dorián said in mock surprise. "You must be the ones who took him. well, I am happy that you came along to check up on him. I can assure you he is well. Now you can safely be on your way."

"We are not going anywhere; we know who you are… Dorián."

Dorián's smile faded, noting how his enemies were closing in on him.

"In that case, I am at a disadvantage. Who are you?"

"They call me the Wolf." The man said.

"And they called me Dolon." Dorián said easily. "Try not to antagonize me, who befriended the dark trees of our forest. It might not end well for you."

Wolf grinned and stepped forward. Dorián pulled free his gun faster than an eye could blink, pointing it at the man, stopping him in his tracks. He was still grinning.

"Come on, Dolon." The man said, spreading out his arms. "I thought we were friends."

"You are right." Dorián replied easily. "This is just the kind of friendship that I reserve my gun for."

He was heavily outnumbered, he knew. They could easily subdue him and drag him away to who knows where. This part of town was always swarming with such kind of folk and crimes. No one will help.

"Put the gun down so we can talk."

"We are talking."

Tension was starting to flow through his body. Then the man moved. Instantly he was grabbed from behind. The gun set off, catching a man squarely in the chest until he was disarmed, the gun thrown away and wrestled to the ground. He fought still, satisfied when he was able to knee one man between the legs and punched another in the face, breaking his nose and bloodying his face. His hood fell off, and a pain shot through his skull as Wolf grabbed his hair and hoisted his head up with it.

"When your time comes," the scarred man said in his ear. "We will mount you on a spear and parade you for your kind to see. Make no mistake."

"When your time comes," Dorián whispered. "The world will watch as you meet your fall."

The man snarled and threw him to the ground.

"Tell your king this!" The man spat. "There will be first blood!"

"Tell your master this," Dorián retorted. "Evil never wins. Particularly when the elves of Eryn Lasgalen are involved."

oOo

_Disney Store,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

Guilt shopping, Thranduil chided himself mentally. That was what Cassie and Riley called it. It happened from time to time, when Riley would miss tucking his children into bed and kissing them good night because of work, or Cassie missing her children's poem recitals or competitions because her shift went late. She was a nurse, so it happened now and then and the parents would be driven into guilt and would often make it up by buying the children some toy or game or take them out for lunch.

Thranduil glanced with amusement at the soft toys of different Winnie the Pooh characters. He had already bought toys for the boys and now he was looking one for Dawn. Arodien was trailing behind, shoulders shaking in amusement.

_"Stop laughing."_ He muttered at her.

_"You are shopping for a child. How can I not laugh?"_ she shot back, grinning. _"There is a section for girls where there are dolls and other things."_

_"She is five and she loves Winnie the Pooh. I just can't remember which character."_

'Arianna' burst out laughing.

_"Oh, just go and leave me in peace."_ Thranduil said in exasperation, smiling embarrassedly. She smirked at him and pulled out her phone. He threw her a long suffering expression just as she snapped a picture.

"_This will be a good source of amusement."_ Arodien remarked. _"Now, dear husband, continue on."_

_"And here I thought you could help me."_

_"I recall that both our son and a grandson have outgrown toys."_ Arodien retorted. _"And besides I am not familiar with these toys. You have better luck than I_." Beside them a young mother with a baby boy in her carrier looked at them open-mouthed. Arodien merely gave him a beaming smile and disappeared to wander deeper in the store. He sighed and turned back to the soft toys, scowling at them for a moment.

He decided to pick the donkey, dressed in a blue night suit. He had it gift-wrapped and then sought out his wife before heading back for the car.

_"You just abandoned me there!"_

_"I did nothing of the sort."_ Arodien said coolly.

_"Yes you did!"_

Their light banter ended at the car where he deposited the soft toy in the backseat, ignoring his wife's smirks.

_"I wish we had a daughter."_ Arodien said suddenly.

_"What and deal with the headache of suitors?"_

_"Better than to deal with irate fathers!"_

_"It is a blessing Legolas did not do anything to cause that sort of problems."_ Thranduil said, concentrating on the road.

_"Neither did Nimdir, for all the wildness in him."_

They chatted for a while as he drove before Arodien notice him visibly tense.

_"What is it?"_

_"We are being followed."_ He said through clenched teeth. _"No, don't turn your head!"_He added when Arodien instinctively turned to look behind them.

_"What are you going to do?"_

_"Shake them off."_

The next fifteen minutes were full of tense driving. Arodien did not speak, instead noting how her husband's knuckles whitened over the steering wheel and how he occasionally shot worried glances her way.

_"We lost them."_ Thranduil said, frowning. It was odd, considering he was not able to shake them off earlier and then suddenly disappeared off his tail. It was almost as if they left on their own.

_"Did you hear that?"_ she said suddenly. Thranduil glanced at her and then became aware of soft ticking noise coming from the backseat.

_"We need to get out_." Thranduil said. They were in a lesser crowded road, and almost no pedestrians. It was a residential area. He was a bit torn but the ticking sound became louder. _"Get out! Now!"_

He skidded to a halt, opening the door as he did so. Arodien did the same. He reached and grabbed his wife's hand dragging her beside him. They ducked into an alley.

There was loud explosion behind him, shock waves vibrating through air and shaking the other cars in the area slightly away. Shielding his wife from the debris, one hand dropped to his gun hidden under his jacket.

_"Come, Armes."_ He said, feeling her quake under his arm_. "Come. It is not safe here!"_

Grabbing her hand, he led her inside the smaller alleys with the other hand holding a gun.

Another mistake.

The first thing he heard was laughter, not the harsh type of laughter of men but the soft lilting kind of elves. He looked around and saw elves appearing in front of them, five in number and dressed in jeans and shirts. And their leader Thranduil recognized, much to his disbelief.

_"Himben?"_ He asked, the shock of betrayal growing inside him. Dorián's father by marriage grinned. But there was no natural light within him.

He grabbed the trash can and threw it towards Himben and his allies. They reacted the way he thought they would, buckling to duck under the offence. Grabbing his wife's hand he pulled her into an alley, running.

_"They want it!"_ She cried and he knew what she meant. Húro was still in his pocket, encased in its wooden box. He slipped his fingers into his pocket, opening the box and feeling the ring slip out. He twisted his fingers until it slipped on his index finger.

And none too soon. Himben appeared again, this time bearing a gun in his hand. Thranduil skidded to halt, for the gun was not pointing at him but his wife. He grabbed her and pulled her behind him, feeling her tremble against his back.

_"Give it here."_

_"Why do you want it?"_

_"It is a good toy to have."_

_"What happened to you?"_

_"You are weak, caring for those who have obviously passed on to the other side. Now give it here."_

He looked at him for a while before digging into his pocket and tossing the wooden box to Himben, who caught it cleanly. The Elf opened it.

_"Where is it?"_ The Elf hissed. He then realized the Ring of Storm concealed the same way the other three Rings of Power did.

_"Where do you think_?" Thranduil retorted.

_"You put it on."_ Himben said finally. "_I did not think you would."_

Thranduil said nothing, staring at his former librarian with unwavering eyes.

_"You will see things, Oropherion. And you will deserve every one of them."_

The elves snarled at them and left, vanishing in the separate alleys. Thranduil's breath loosened, his grip on his wife's wrist breaking.

_"You did not tell me Arodis' father was taken."_ Thranduil said.

_"He wasn't."_ Arodien replied softly.

When they returned and reluctantly told everyone what happened, all the elves were horrified at the thought of their King and Queen in danger.

_"The next time you are taking someone else along no matter how much you hate it."_ Fion snapped. Thranduil merely looked at him wearily. Mithon was sitting tight-lipped, with a guilty look. As his personal guard, Mithon took any attack on him as his personal problem, and always blamed himself for it. Életh fussed over him, pressing an ice pack over his shoulder.

_"I am fine, little one."_ Thranduil murmured, waving his daughter by marriage away.

_"We have to move_," Olben said finally. _"Dorián got attacked just an hour before you. That can't be coincidence."_

_"I will go and help the others."_ Arodien said, gently touching her husband's shoulder before getting up.

_"You do realize there is absolutely no way for me to leave this quickly_." Thranduil said, rubbing his temples. The Ellyth were already packing their clothes and that of their husbands. _"You want to wipe down the place and leave absolutely nothing for them to be here."_

_"Somebody has to remain behind."_ Dorián said reluctantly. "_That is the only we can be absolutely sure."_

_"I'll stay."_Olben volunteered. "I know my way around. I can join you, though it will take me longer than usual."

_"No one's staying."_ Fion said firmly. _"This is getting too dangerous. If somebody knows about Thranduil then it is very likely they know something about us all as well. Anyone who stays is only going to get into more trouble by being alone than us all as a group."_

_"I can't just disappear."_ Thranduil said. _"My boss will throw a fit."_

_"You have no idea how awkward it sounds when your king says he has a boss_." Thorontur told him._ "Look, it is better to get out of this alive and become suspicious of than it is to be dead and not be suspicious of."_

_"You said you had some underground 'friends'."_ Olben reminded him. Thranduil was not entirely happy with the notion.

_"You know I would attract attention regardless. A detective vanishing into thin air and leaving behind everything is suspicious."_

_"We will worry about it as it comes."_ Armes said, sitting down beside her husband. "_Come, beloved. We have to go."_

Regardless of what he had said, Thranduil was truly fond of underground networks, what with the satisfaction he got from them. In no time at all, his transactions were complete, his apartment taken care of, his furniture sold.

The problem was the Captain now.

When he placed his gun, badge and his resignation letter in front of her, he felt her eyes assess him closely.

"Is everything alright with you?" She asked.

"Splendid, Captain."

"Then why are you leaving?"

Thranduil hesitated. "It was an honor to serve, Captain." He said carefully. "But I have done what I can in the force. I wish to live my life the way I wanted to, pursuing a field that I wanted to pursue."

"I have to ask," Shaw said, leaning forward on her desk. "Is there any force behind you doing this? Are you under some sort of pressure?"

"Nothing of the sort, Captain." Thranduil replied firmly. Shaw stared at him for a long while before nodding. "Very well. I accept your resignation."

"Captain, with all due respect," Thranduil said. "Please do not tell Detective Jackson."

Shaw frowned.

_"And why should I not?"_

_"I… prefer to tell him myself."_

_If I ever have the courage to do so…_

"Very well," Shaw conceded, clasping her hands behind her back and straightening to reach her full height. Then her eyes softened in spite of her stiff posture. "It is disappointing to see you leave, Kraft. If I had men like you in the field, more criminals would be behind bars."

Thranduil only smiled and bowed his head, taking the compliment astride before leaving. Entering the elevator, he rubbed his temples with his fingers, trying unsuccessfully to will the headache to go away.

When he returned, he sought Arodien's company, lying down beside her on the floor, now that everything was given away.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly, taking his hand that Húro adorned.

"It is tiring." He said, referring to the ring. "My senses are far too sharp and it pains my head." He sighed, rolling towards her. "I just want to sleep."

"So go to sleep."

"I can't. Everything is too sharp."

Their last day brought them leaving using cabs. Thranduil handled Rob's questions easily, diverting from himself and still laughing and chatting. When he left, Rob wondered a bit, because in spite of the conversation, he realized he learned nothing from that mysterious detective.

"About this victim and the Warg print-"

"Something we can discuss on the plane." Fion interrupted.

Their plane was thankfully still waiting. It went smoothly, though they all started to stifle their laughter when Fion passed through, introducing his 'name'. They were still trying not to laugh after they boarded their plane.

"Fred Dickson?" Thranduil asked Fion. The Ellyn sniggered in their cups, making Fion scowl.

"Juveniles," Fion muttered.

"What are you all laughing about?" Életh asked them curiously.

"Nothing!" They chorused. Életh looked at the suspiciously before joining her mother by marriage. Olben started to laugh, stifling it behind his hand which set everyone else off. The Ellyth looked at them curiously while Fion huffed and purposely dug his earphones into his ears, twisting away from them in his seat and facing the plane window.

"So how does someone like this Jason own a private jet?"

"He doesn't. But the businessmen funding him do."

"Let me guess. Foreign markets."

"Worldwide. It's harder to track that way."

"And where are we going?"

"Grey Havens."

Thranduil raised a brow.

"It's not the Grey Havens you are thinking," Olben added. "It was merely named that because of some obvious reasons. In other words, we are going to Canada."

"An American with a Canadian base…" Thranduil mused.

"Stranger things have happened."

"Now about this Warg…" Olben began. Dorián tilted his head to where the Ellyth were seated.

"Arodis!" he called his wife. "Is there a possibility that Wargs are still alive?"

Arodis frowned.

"Well it shouldn't." She said, carefully. "it would not make much sense, now would it? The orcs have been wiped out and so should the other evil creatures because after the fall of Sauron, they wandered without aid."

"Maybe they have someone now." Fion suggested. "A master as powerful as Sauron."

Arodis shook her head.

"It still is not possible." She said. "The Void takes the spirits of all the fell creatures. There is no way to be let out of there, not with the Door still intact."

"Unless they are here in the first place," Thranduil murmured.

"Which I find highly unlikely," Arodis said, crossing her legs. "Perhaps this paw print was of another animal, similar to a Warg."

"I have pictures of it." Thranduil said, pulling out his cellphone. He flipped through the album before taking out the two photos. Fion took it and tossed it to Arodis.

"Careful!"

"Relax. It's not an iPhone."

"It's a Samsung." Thranduil retorted. "And they are better."

"They both look similar," Arodis said. "The only difference is the size. The tattoo is much smaller on the girl's arm. I think it was perhaps some sort of a template used. Though combine it with the message, I would say the effect was still a Warg print."

"I know paw prints." Fion said, catching the phone when Arodis tossed it back to him. "That is a Warg print."

"And who do you think could be behind closing this case?"

"Probably Jason," Dorián said with a shrug. "We will have to thank him."

"If it is him," Thorontur said.

"I think it is." Dorián replied. Fion tossed Thranduil's phone to him, who caught it. He glanced down at his cellphone, guilt erupting inside him when he noted Riley's missed calls from before he got on the plane. Shaking his head, he switched it off and pulled out the card.

"Coward," he muttered to himself.

oOo

_Private Jet,_

_Skies._

_A tall man with jet-black hair stood with his back to him in a dark room with only light coming from the few ceiling lights. He heard metal hitting nail and the man flipped up a coin into the air. It twirled and even from the distance he saw two sides of the coin changing sides. One side held the symbol of a beech-tree and the other was that of a sun half-set in the horizon._

"Thranduil."

He nearly jumped in the air when he felt Fion touch his shoulder.

"Sorry," the elf muttered. "Wear your seatbelt. We are landing."

Shaken by the vision, he pulled his seatbelt around him before resting his head on the seat.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

A pause settled between them.

"What does it feel like to wear a Ring of Power?"

"As if the weight of Mirkwood has fallen back on my shoulders." Thranduil replied. He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.

oOo

_Laurentian Mountains,_

_Canada._

The mountains were numerous, widely spaced with dark colored soil and green grass of a darker shade. The stone had variable colors of gray, mostly staying in the darker tones. But the mountains were widely spaced, meaning that any building here could easily be seen.

Thranduil looked out of the car window, taking in the scenery.

"Laurentian Mountains," Thranduil said with a raised brow. "How in Arda do you hide a mansion here?"

They were seated in one of the many black jeeps that had come to pick them from the airport of Quebec city, driving them to the outskirts up to the Laurentian Mountains.

"Well, it is not exactly hidden. You can see it through satellite images, but it is well-protected." Fion answered.

"And how exactly?"

Fion smiled grimly, stretching out his palm. An orb of light appeared in his outstretched palm, like the ones they used to light up a feast they would have back in Eryn Lasgalen, charmed to vanish should they ever come upon intruders. Thranduil smiled back at him, noting how their driver was completely unaffected by the display of 'elf-magic' as men would call it. The black jeeps were broad and wide, with thick tires meant for rocky and harsh terrain, and he soon realized why. There were no roads and the ride was a hard one and very slow as their drivers maneuvered around the rocky ground. A few hours later, with two half-hour stops i between, their destination came into view.

Grey Havens was a name well given. The mansion was huge, built with four wings coming from the main building, with a large courtyard in the front. The entire building was set in grey stone, the doors painted with dark grey and reinforced with steel. The gates bore the same color, and the broken fountain in the courtyard too was made of grey stone. It was very old, for the mansion was nearly run down, kept on its foundations by the constant use.

He got the shock of his life when he entered the mansion. From the outside, it looked as if it was nearly crumbling but from the inside, the view was completely different. Rich carpet adorned the floor of the lounge, an antique chandelier hanging from the ceiling. He saw a staircase leading up to the second floor but what was more interesting were the banners hanging from the ceiling and decorating the ends of the tablecloths spreading on the tables. It bore the symbol of a single white tree with branches flaring outward, circled with red stars above it. The background was jet black and looking around he noticed that while the mansion looked abandoned, it was anything but. Men walked briskly from one side to the other, not even looking their way. The drivers that brought them here were helping them bring in their luggage. The Ellyth were already moving upstairs, chattering among them, completely at home. He noticed the men here wore black military suits, with crimson shirts peeking through from the neckline of their suits. The emblem was stitched into their right sleeves with silver and red thread. For all the decorations about them, this was by no doubt military in origin.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Dorián said, standing beside him.

"And I am not usually easily impressed."

"Come, my lord. I will take you to the control room."

Dorián led him through a hallway on the left, swarming with guards standing on alert at different doors until he stopped in front of one and twisted the doorknob to enter. This room was completely closed by shut blinds and secured windows. Desks were lined in rows, with laptops manned on it by men and women both. Here he saw the women's uniform, which consisted of either a long black skirt and crimson shirt, or the same style of that of the men's.

He spotted a middle-aged man standing in the middle of the room, his feet firmly planted apart and his hands clasped behind him. His silver-blonde hair was military cut. He was well-fit, dressed in the same black and red uniforms as all the others, though his bearing spoke that he was a leader, wearing power almost like a second skin.

He turned when Dorián called him. Electric blue eyes shifted from Dorián's face than shifted onto his own. He studied him in a glance before his scarred face broke into a smile, embracing Dorián.

"You are well. And you made it out alive."

"Yes, but what of you?"

"We reached here safely, though the government officials were keen on trying to pursue us but it was not so great a matter."

"Jason, I would like to meet our king, Thranduil Oropherion, Sire, this is Jason."

Jason looked at him, eyes hard as he met his own. He held the gaze easily, gathering himself in full height. The two stared each other down, two leaders accessing one another, a fight of wills to see who would wrestle one another until Jason's face broke into a small smile, his eyes holding a light of approval.

_"Well-met, Son of Oropher._" Jason said in fluent Sindarin, pressing his fist against his chest and bowing at the waist. Thranduil's face broke into a small smile at being greeted in such a way. He bowed too.

_"Well-met, Son of Man._" Thranduil glanced at Dorián. "I must say I was not expecting to be greeting in our tongue from a Man."

"Sindarin has its perks." Jason replied. "I make it my business to know languages." Thranduil's smiled widened slightly.

"I have to thank you for taking NYPD off the case." Thranduil said to the man. "I do not know how you did it, but I am glad you did."

Jason frowned.

"What case?"

"The case of the girl killed… the Warg-print... and the message for me." Jason looked even more alarmed at the news.

"What is this you are talking about? What happened?" Jason looked at Dorián.

"You mean it was not you."

"I have certainly not helped you in regards of any case." Jason said adamantly. "Can anyone care to explain what is going on?" Jason led them into a small room, closing the door so they could speak freely.

They briefly recounted everything that happened regarding the case, and Dorián told him about his encounter after leaving the house, and Thranduil told him about meeting Himben.

"Oromë said that nobody knew of Húro!" Jason said, slamming a fist on a table. "We seem to have spies everywhere." He muttered.

"You know?" Thranduil asked.

"Of course," Jason replied. "Only a few know of it and those have been sworn into silence. There are others at work in Aman. I will speak to this with Oromë. He has to know he too has spies."

"And this anonymous person who helped me?"

"I do not know who it is and I can tell you it wasn't us." Jason shook his head. "I am not certain if I should be happy or worried that someone stepped forward to help."

"Any luck with the laptop?" Dorián asked.

"None. It is far too complicated. Whoever made it, was sure to keep it from being found out."

"What laptop?" Thranduil asked

"We found a laptop in a hideout we cleared before coming to Círdan. We thought it could be of some use but it won't be until we can decode it."

"Let me try." Thranduil said.

"You?" Jason asked, raising his brows.

"I dabbled now and then when it comes to unlocking secrets of computers." Thranduil said. "Or any electronic in fact. I served my time as a hacker and kept the habit. I might be able to find something."

Jason studied him with a strange look on his face that he could not name before nodding reluctantly.

"That is good enough. I will give it to you soon." Jason glanced at Dorián.

"You had better go and see Jimmy. He has been asking for you."

Dorián excused himself. Thranduil's eye drew to the banner hanging between two windows.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He looked back at Jason, his fingers rested on the table.

"It is different from the emblem of Gondor."

"That is because when it first started, it wasn't made by Gondor. The Haradrim from the East, the ones who were friendly with Gondor were asked by King Elessar. They took the White tree but the white stars were replaced by red ones, in memory of where they came from."

"How do you manage to hide all of this from government's eye? I find it hard to believe that Canadian Intel did not manage to catch you yet."

Jason smiled grimly. "Let us just say that the General and I struck a deal. We came to a… understanding, of sorts. And he was unwilling to have anything jeopardize his position."

"Means you blackmailed him," Thranduil said dryly.

"You could call it that, yes."

Once again Jason fixed him with an assessing look.

"Why do you do that?" Thranduil asked, looking back at the banner.

"Why I do what?"

"You look at me as if I were a piece of puzzle."

"You are," Jason said bluntly. "Your people place great trust in you."

"I have won it."

"I would call it blind trust. Do not expect it from me."

Thranduil looked at the man, studying him. At length, he said, "Dorián mentioned an elf you rescued… someone who belonged to my kingdom."

"Yes, Melion, son of Mithon." Jason responded. "Mithon has already met with him in the beginning. I was starting to wonder when you will ask of him." Thranduil raised a brow.

"And where is he?"

"He is staying in one of the bedrooms in the west wing. I will have someone take you there."

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

He entered the room to find it pleasantly warm, with comfortable surroundings. He heard laughter first before it died out and he saw that Melion had friends with him; fellow Silvan elves that Thranduil suspected once lived in Lórien and later in Aman under the command of King Amdír.

_"My lord king,"_ Melion greeted him, instantly struggling to rise from his bed. The other elves rose.

"_Stay_," Thranduil said. _"You know I never cared for such treatment."_ The Silvan elves surrounding his bed returned to their seats, some even sitting on the bed near Melion's legs. There were six of them, lounging everywhere from the bed to sitting on tables.

_"We should probably go and see if we are needed."_ One of the Silvan elves said, breaking the silence that stretched out. The other elves nodded quickly and got up with him. they said brief goodbyes, touching Melion's shoulder briefly before leaving. When they left, Thranduil looked down at Melion, sorrow welling up at the sight of him. he looked a little healthy but his eyes were haunted and sad, as if he had seen horrors he would rather not speak of. His body was thin, he noted, under the blankets and the thin shirt he was wearing. He looked up sharply at Melion's face as the injured elf struggled once more to get up.

_"Melion, boy, you know you do not need to stand for protocol for me_!" He had known Melion since he was child in a cradle.

_"It is not that, Sire_." Melion said. "_I was told to walk everyday as much as I could to strengthen my body."_ He hastened forward to help him and he noted how readily Melion took it, weak and fragile hand clasping his stronger one, knuckles and bones digging into his flesh. Another thin, long-fingered hand went for a wooden cane.

_"Where do you usually go?"_

_"Nowhere. I simply walk up and down the corridor."_

Melion was very weak. In spite of a wooden cane in his hand, he was leaning heavily on Thranduil's arm. Thranduil said nothing, instead kept a wary eye on his charge. Melion's face was tight and fatigued, though he looked less frightened and worried than what Dorián had described him to be.

_"How are you feeling?"_ He asked, breaking the silence between them.

_"As well as could be expected. I have never been this weak."_

_"Your strength will come in time."_

_"They told me this is Arda."_

_"They are correct."_

_"it has changed."_ Melion coughed to clear his throat. _"I am sorry for my voice. It is not the same as it once was."_

_"Oh, Melion… you do not need to apologize."_

_"What has come of my wife?"_

_"She is still in Aman, as far as I know. Have you met your father?"_

_"Aye, I have."_ Melion shook his head. _"He has grown sorrowful after seeing me, I think. Perhaps something to do will keep his mind of me."_

_"You are his son. He will think of you always."_Thranduil said softly. Melion sagged against him. _"Do you want to go back?"_

_"Nay. But I am not strong to walk any further."_

_"Melion, I must ask."_ Thranduil said after they returned to his room and settled him on a couch. _"What happened? How were you captured?"_

_"It was the night of my daughter's betrothal."_ Melion said, his eyes glazing in memory. _"She was nervous and we stepped into the porch so that I could speak to her. I was soothing her, comforting her when these elves appeared out of nowhere. They seemed to have come from shadow. And they looked strange, as if some sort of darkness grew within them."_

_"They asked me if I were Melion, son of Mithon. They knew my name. I said it was I. and then…. They took out their swords and told me not to make a noise. They took my daughter to make me cooperate."_

_"What happened then?"_

_"I do not know. They had hit me over the head to keep me silent and I suppose they did the same with her. when I awoke, I was blindfolded and they forced drugged wine down my throat. I slept from then on, awakening only to taste the sea air."_

_"I must have come to Arda then. They took me to a room and tortured me. They wanted to know things. Like where you could be, among others. I did not know the answer. In time, they ceased asking me questions and only tortured me."_ Melion looked down at his hands, the bones of his wrists sticking outward underneath the thin skin. _"I think… a part of me thinks they wanted to make orcs."_

_"What else?"_ Thranduil asked softly. Melion shook his head.

_"It continued. On and on with no end. At times they would place me beside my daughter's cell to hurt me further, and I would hear her screams for hours. Days, perhaps, but I do not know. It was too dark to tell."_

_"Oh, Melion-"_ Thranduil said softly, gathering the elf close to him and stroking his head. _"Would that I knew how to take this pain from you."_

A silence settled between the King and the elf. Then Melion sighed. _"Not all those who wander are lost."_

Thranduil stiffened in surprise. "_Why do you say that?"_ He asked. Melion frowned.

_"I do not know… my captor said it while he was torturing me."_

_"Why?"_

_"I… do not know…"_

_"Melion, this may be important. Think! Did he mention any name, perhaps Elessar, or our Evenstar?"_

Melion frowned more but shook his head.

_"Nay, I am most certain they were not mentioned. It was something else_," he rubbed his forehead with thin fingers. _"It had to something with finding… someone. My captor was looking for someone. Not you. Other elves. I am sorry… I must have gone unconscious."_

_"That is alright."_ Thranduil said, pressing a kiss on Melion's temple _"Get some rest and regain your strength, that is all that matter. If you remember anything else, tell me."_

_"I will."_

_So Jason was right. There is another player…_

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

"Why would you help someone?" Thranduil asked, tracing the rim of his coffee cup. Thorontur looked at him in confusion.

"Generally speaking," Thranduil elaborated.

"Well, I might help because that person is my friend."

"Or?"

"I might help if it were for my personal interests." Thranduil frowned in thought.

"Or?"

"Or, I might help just to get back to an enemy?"

"Interesting. Explain."

"For example, if I am enemies with A, but B is also enemies with A, then I will help B to get back at A."

"Making someone who helped in the first place, not be a friend," Thranduil murmured. "so, that brings the question; why would someone help me hide my identity?"

"Probably because he has something to get from you?"

"Or maybe so that it could unravel my identity by itself." Thranduil murmured. To that, Thorontur had not reply.

_A black-haired man stood with his back towards him. he heard metal hitting nail, and a coin flipped into the air, the short whistling as it changed faces. The symbol of a beech tree of his household flipped and changed into a sun setting in the horizon. It continued to flip in the air, before it fell._

oOo

_Thranduil's Former Apartment,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

Riley stood in the middle of the empty apartment, frowning. There was nothing here, which was surprising. He called many times, but he got no answer. He started to ask around when he realized; Lee had no friends besides him and a few others at works that weren't even given the courtesy to be called his friends.

Barely a few days ago, Lee was happy with a wife and son. Now, his apartment was empty and there was no evidence except that he left early. He looked fine to him, happy as always but with a passion awakening from deep inside him, making him lose the dreaminess and the sorrow in his eyes and bringing in a more mischievous light.

"Damn it all." Riley growled. "Something happened and it wasn't good."

Shaw told him that Lee looked fine when he came to give his resignation. But he wasn't happy. Lee doesn't leave work. Lee didn't even take the leaves he was offered. Work was his life. He wouldn't pick up and go, not so fast after such an interesting case. The pointy-eared idiot loved cases that made no sense. He practically thrived on them.

"Lee, mark my words. If you are alive and well and left without a goodbye, I am personally gonna find you and gonna beat you back all the way to the precinct!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

It was after midnight but the feeling of a new place and the recent events caused him to stay wide awake. He got into the hallway, intending to ask after his son, whom he did not see since they had entered Grey Havens. Just then, Legolas appeared around the corner, with an unusually bright step and a brighter grin.

"Well, speak of the devil." Thranduil said dryly.

"Turn around," Legolas said in reply, hands already reaching out and turning him forcefully around.

"Why?"

As if in answer a blindfold fell over his eyes, interrupting his vision.

"Thranduilion!" Thranduil said to his son, surprised. He heard soft laughter, and delicate fingers took his hands. "Armes! What is this?"

"Oh, just a little surprise."

"Come on!" Legolas' voice was very urgent, his hands pushing him from behind and Arodien's fingers tugging his own.

"You had better had not planned parading me down the halls with a blindfold!"

There was silence.

"Armes! Legolas!"

There was laughter from both wife and son as they continued to drag him to wherever they had in mind. he heard a door open and he walked until Arodien pulled off his blindfold.

It was a dining hall, brightly lit and nearly packed with people. The table was laden with mouthwatering dishes, and the aromas of warm gravies rose in the air.

"What's all this?" Thranduil asked, pleasure welling up inside him at the unexpected feast.

"Well, we could not go without celebrating the return of our king now, could we? Now sit." Fion said briskly, tugging him to a chair.

"Please tell me you did not make all of this."

Fion kicked him, none too gently on his shin, forcing him to sit down on a chair.

"You said I am your king!"

"You are not wearing a crown yet." Fion snapped. The two friends grinned at each other. "And no, I did not make it. Noron and the others did."

That was when he noticed the mentioned Rangers standing around the table.

"It is a good thing you came, Sire!" One of them said merrily. "Hanon was running us to the ground with his training!"

"Training?"

"We train in the boreal forest." Legolas explained. "Not in so large a group, but in twos and threes-"

"At the moment I don't even care if you danced with dwarves." Thranduil snapped, making all of them laugh.

"Well, some of these dishes are Canadian specials-"

"Legolas," Thranduil interrupted his son's words. "Right now, I want to greet every single elf here. So if you will excuse me."

He spotted Hanon first and pulled him into an embrace.

"See?" Hanon said. "I told you he would miss us."

"I think he missed our mischiefs more than us-" Another Ranger said.

"No, I do not." Thranduil interrupted hastily. The last thing he wanted was to have trouble caused so soon after their reunion!

They laughed and chattered, some of the Ellyth in the corner speak hurriedly among themselves before starting a song. Some of the Ellyn wandered over and joined them. There was no place for dance, and it was too cramped to move too freely. So Noron and the others worked in plating food and passing it, hand to hand. Most of them were dressed in the same black and crimson uniforms as the Fellowship. Arodien sat on the table in front of his chair, sharing a plate and a glass. Many other elves were sharing as well.

It felt like home.

Later, they entered Thranduil and Arodien's room, chatting all the while. They stayed for a few hours. Thranduil rubbed his head discreetly, the ache rising steadily. He got up, smiling as Életh teased his son, going for a glass of water. Suddenly he doubled over.

Pain.

It shot through his head, pricking his skull like molten metal. He groaned in agony, hands blindly looking for support as he doubled over.

"Thranduil!"

His wife's voice called to him urgently, yanking him back to reality but the pain was too much. Strong able hands grabbed his shoulders, gently pushing him down to lie back. He opened his eyes, and the light was far too bright. Fion's face hovered in his view, saying something to him he could not make out through the haze. A hand held the back of his head before he was laid on the hard ground.

Then the pain dissipated slightly and he became more and more aware of his surroundings. He felt Arodien's fingers stoking his hair, Fion muttering softly under his breath while holding his hand. Legolas was pacing. And Thorontur bent forward as he sat on a chair, interlocked fingers of both hands pressed against his mouth, elbows resting on his knees. But it did not matter much to him. Weakly, he tugged on Fion's hand that held his own as urgently as he could muster. His friend seemed to understand immediately.

"Arodien, let go." Fion ordered, quickly grabbing Thranduil and helping him turn over. Thranduil retched, emptying his stomach's contents on the floor. "Legolas, get over here. Thranduil, we are going to get you on the bed. Arodien, find him another set of clothes. Thorontur, go and get Jimmy." He was lifted up and taken to the bed. Thranduil sighed at the feel of a soft mattress. He felt weak, Fion using a cool, wet cloth to wipe his face. Soon he was helped into a different set of clothes and settled back on the bed.

"Try to rest, my friend."

But he couldn't. His mind was far too excited. Visions pricked his head, money passing through a set of hands…

_Bribery._

Blood dripping down from a human corpse, Himben and the others talking over it.

_Silence to their crime._

He saw the black-haired man again, tossing the coin.

_A choice._

The visions started to interlace with other things. He saw Grey Havens, the nooks and crannies where the enchantments were weakest. His ring tugged and pulled at him, insisting to remove them, beckoning him to get up and strengthen them. A Ring of Storm indeed! Violent and forceful, but at the same time with a core deep within of love to protect others. He wanted to get up but he found he couldn't; what with the pain so great and his body so weak.

"Thranduil you need to rest."

He couldn't. Can't they see he couldn't?

A long time passed by, or was it long? He did not know. The throb of his head was mind-numbing and annoying, chipping on his nerves. His body felt heavy, and he wanted to escape it. For all his years as both prince and king, even when he was wounded or hale, he always felt light and free. He felt someone touch his shoulder and he opened his eyes. The migraine he was having reacted against the light, making his head hurt even more.

"King Thranduil," the man said. "I am gonna put you out, alright? You need some rest and you ain't getting any if you stay like this."

"Jimmy, he is in pain." Dorián's voice wafted over to him.

"I know, man. Let me take care of this. I am gonna give you something for the pain but you are gonna feel a bit pressure in the injection site alright?"

He felt a hand clamp down on his arm, a needle piercing his flesh. The pressure was great and almost sickening until he felt the hand release and massage the place.

"Here," something was raised to his lips and he felt Arodien stroke his forehead. "Drink."

He obeyed. Soon, his mind dulled and he fell into a deep slumber.

_A corpse was hoisted up on spear, black hair streaming in the wind. He looked around him. it was a battlefield, with armies standing on either side. Across the battlefield, he saw banners of a sable hoisted up, fluttering in the air. Beside him stood a tall elf, a crown resting upon his head._

He awoke, blinking blearily to clear his vision. The bedroom was dark, with only light coming from the lamp on his bedside. Thorontur was reclining on a couch near to him, looking down at his cellphone. He shifted, causing him to gain the advisor's attention.

"You are awake." Thorontur said softly. He pocketed his phone and reached out, pressing his hand lightly on his forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Tired but no pain." Thranduil said. "What happened?"

"You should be the one to tell us." Thorontur said. "You caused a great fright."

"Húro," Thranduil said. "I am not used to it I think. Either that or I think it regards me lazy. The Ring of Storm is a name well given. It refuses to be tamed."

"Then perhaps you should become stronger for it."

"Where is Armes?"

"The lady is with the other Ellyth, training. Jason's sister is overseeing them."

"How many know?"

"Just the ones in the room, Jason, Miranda and Jimmy."

"Miranda? Jimmy?"

"Miranda is Jason's sister. She is a good sort. She came here when she heard the commotion. Jimmy is a man here Dorián has befriended. He is a bit crazy but he has the hands of a healer. He is a doctor after all."

"You entrusted your king to a madman?" Thranduil joked, voice rasping every time he spoke. Thorontur noticed and got up to get him some water.

"Only when we know he will not harm you. Can you sit up?" Thranduil tried and found he could. He took the offered glass. "What time is it?" he asked once he finished his water.

"It's seven in the morning I believe. You slept through the night. We kept watch." Thorontur said.

"That makes me feel like an invalid." Thorontur made no reply.

"You are going to be fine." Thorontur said, sitting down beside his bed. "You are strong."

Thranduil made no reply.

"You know another reason why you might have trouble with your ring?"

"What?"

"I think you and the ring are too similar. The same way the previous three rings were for their elven ring-keepers."

He spent the day in bed till the evening he finally felt he felt strong enough to move. Legolas and Fion visited him. Mithon met him briefly. His loyal guard was barely seen, spending his time nursing his son back to health. He opted to try a hand with the encrypted laptop Jason had given him, choosing to sit on the couch as he did so. It was a strange type of encryption, of a Rubik's cube in sets of four and all of them interconnected one another. He studied them for a while, watching them flip on their own.

"Any luck?" Arodien asked, taking off her shoes and coming to sit beside him.

"It makes a little sense but I think it will take a few days." Thranduil said. He rubbed his throbbing head absently.

"Head still hurting?"

"Hmm," He replied, eyes still focused on the lit screen. Fingers were flying over the keyboard. Arodien scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder. Thranduil stopped, grinning.

"I can't work without the use of two arms, Armes."

"That is the idea." Thranduil chuckled.

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"I think as a King and a bright Ellon, you might come up with a plan."

When they retired, Arodien and Thranduil chatted for a while in bed before she nodded off to sleep. He watched her for a while before turning to get some rest. But sleep would not come to him. His ring was keeping him awake. Húro was true to its name, a storm that plagued him and deprived him of rest. He looked down at it in dismay, the white gem catching rays from the lit lamp at his bedside.

Finally deciding he could not get any rest, he got up carefully so that he would not disturb his wife. The hallways were mostly deserted, though he suspected the main room would be swarming and active in spite of the hour. But that was not where he intended to go. Instead, he spotted a training room full of weights and much to his satisfaction, punching bags. He strode in, ignoring the curious looks he was receiving. Standing in front of a punching bag, he cracked his knuckles and got to work.

By the time he was done, he was drenched in sweat and his shirt was sticking to him. he stepped backward before sitting down, curling till his knees were close to his chest. He dipped his head between his legs, struggling to bring his breath under control. The room was deserted he realized. Glancing up at the clock he noticed it had been nearly two hours there, which would explain the ache in his arms.

He looked down at his Ring, glistening on his index finger of his left hand. He was exhausted, the Ring never allow him sleep. He sensed things in way to access them, perceived threats and his Ring aching to protect and to fight. It was tugging at him, pushing him to the limits. It was not physical but something like an inner power. Tempest, Thranduil mused. A storm of wind and water, a height of weather where everything would bow to its commands and strengths.

He started when a glass appeared in his view, with a drink that was whitish but opaque. He looked up to see a woman in her late thirties holding it before him, smiling down at him. Her black hair was cut short at the level of her ears, giving her a tomboyish look. A dagger was strapped to her thigh but her features softened the deadliness of the weapon.

"Here," The woman said kindly. "You have lost a lot of water and salt."

Thranduil took it and took a cautious sip. It tasted ghastly; ice cold water full of salt and sugar with a taste of lemon behind it.

"It would be better to drink it all at one time."

He nearly gagged at the second sip but braved on. She sat beside him, pulling out her dagger before curling her legs close to her body and resting both her arms on top of her knees.

"Thank you." he said when he finished, the taste still unpleasant in his mouth, though his body seemed to rejuvenate. She smiled in reply.

"Miranda Clarke," she said, promptly reaching out her hand for him to shake. "I hate my surname, so don't you dare call me 'Clarke' and shorten my name and you might find an axe buried in your head."

Thranduil blinked. "Thranduil Oropherion."

"I know who you are." Miranda said. "You are pretty hard to miss. Did you know that?"

"I was told from time to time." Thranduil replied.

"The question is, who are you? I told you a bit of myself."

"I am not really the kind to tell complete strangers about myself."

"I am not exactly a stranger. I did tell you a bit of myself." Miranda insisted.

"Fine, nearly complete strangers." Thranduil said.

"Arodien said I might find you somewhere around here."

"Did she?"

"I just had to follow the rumors of an irate elf punching a bag as if it had done him wrong with such anger they thought they had best leave." Thranduil allowed a small smile creep on his face.

"Sorry," he said.

"No, you are not. You are glad you were able to do something." She said matter-of-factly.

"So what is it that you do here?" he asked, changing the topic.

"Oh, this and that. Depends on how protective Jason is. He hardly lets me out of his side. Although," she tilted her head to a side in thought. "I don't know if it is because I am crazy or he actually cares." Thranduil raised a brow and she burst out laughing. "Oh, I am just messing with you."

She clapped her hands on her thighs and got up, fitting the dagger back in its place.

"Come on," she said, getting up and extending a hand for him to take.

"Where?"

"There is something I need to show you."

"It is late." He said.

"And you do not seem as if you intend to sleep any time soon." She retorted. She gestured with the offered hand. "Come on."

He studied her before accepting her offer. Taking his glass, she deposited it on a tray by the door before taking him through the corridor.

"Who built this mansion anyway?" He asked.

"Oh, this has been in the family for years." Miranda answered, sticking her hands in her pockets. "We got it from our father's side. It was built in mid-twentieth century, so it is not too old. We deserted it because it attracted far too much attention until we were able to get some help from your elves."

"Family?" Thranduil asked. Miranda gave a small smile.

"I understand that our looks do not match much with that of our ancestors but we are descendants from Éomer from our father's side, and from Amrothos on our mother's side." Miranda glanced at Thranduil and understood his other question. "Jason and I. We are siblings. Jason's my older brother."

She led him to double doors which opened outwards. They entered a dimly lit room full of glass cases. Thranduil looked about him. The room was clean, pristine in fact, with the lights focused solely onto the glass cases. He spotted a set of armor and moved to inspect it. It consisted of black-painted mail shirt with silver-plated armor over it. The gauntlets were painted black, and his fingers traced the large design of a white tree over the chest of the armor.

"There are no braces." She said. "We lost them while shifting them here, during the World War."

He shifted his attention to a painting beside the armor. He recognized the place immediately as Meduseld. A man stood in the middle of it, dressed in green and gold, a sword half-drawn, golden hair spilling over his shoulders and a look of fierceness upon his face.

"Éomer Éomundsson." Thranduil said.

"Yes." She said, nodding. A companion piece stood beside it, of two men with arms thrown about one another smiling at the viewer, one was clean-shaven and dressed in formal clothes of blue and silver, black hair straightened and slicked back with a decorated staff in hand. The other was grinning, black hair and beard tousled, making him look young and roguish, dressed in the uniform of Ithilien Rangers. He could see the similarity between the two men, and the ease and companionship between them.

"These paintings are new." Thranduil said.

"Yes. We lost the original one to time. So we progressively made copies of it."

He walked around to another painting; this one was full of elves sitting around a table. He saw Erestor, head resting on the palm of his hand with his elbow on the table, Elrond, fingertips of both hands pressed together and looking directly at the viewer. Glorfindel sat in the corner, near the window, oblivious to everything with a dove perched on his knee. The twins standing, fierce and tall beside their father. He saw a shadow lurking behind the twins, half-hidden in the pillar but unmistakably female with dark hair that Thranduil could only identify as Arwen. And yet in spite of recognizing all the elves in the painting, it was somewhat inaccurate; Erestor was supposed to be taller than Elrond, and slimmer. Glorfindel was heavily muscular and broad-shouldered, his hair more golden. Elrond's gaze was more piercing.

There was an assortment of paintings, most of which were scenery mostly of places in Gondor and Rohan, some of which he did not recognize until he asked Miranda to elaborate them. Then he moved his attention to the glass cases, noting a few of them contained books, the Sindarin or Westron writing faded and the pages crumbling. Then he spotted a sword, polished and untarnished, as if it had only been a day since the sword had been separated from its master. Its scabbard lay beside it.

"Andúril," Thranduil murmured. "I knew it would not break. Where are his first sons?"

"Lost," Miranda answered. "The world changed too many times and too much has happened since. The line is alive, I am sure but we do not know where they are."

He spotted another sword in a glass case; this one had a pommel of a horse's head, red stained leather wrapped around the hilt. Its blade was broad, meant for brutal cuts and swings and it was long and undoubtedly heavy. Gúthwinë lay without a master on red velvet, gleaming dully in the light.

"Rohirric swords were laid down with their masters." Thranduil said.

"Not if they are broken out by thieves." Miranda answered. "Grandfather found that sword, in an artifacts shop. He had to pay arm and leg to get it back. But I think I can show you one that will interest you." She led him to a glass case to a far corner where the painting of Elrond and his companions hung.

Upon a cushion lay a long oak staff, the head of which was swollen and adorned with silver veins. It was well-polished and preserved, though he could see the bottom part of the staff was broken and had been restored. Beside it lay a simple mithril circlet, something he wore only when he rode out to hunt or to war. He had left his staff back in Arda when he set sail, believing he had no use of it. To see it again here brought back many memories for him. All of a sudden he remembered the joys of his forest. The laughter under the trees, the contests, the races, and the simple enjoyments of things in spite of the evil that used to haunt them; it made everything he faced recently more bearable and Húro on his finger felt lighter, his headache and exhaustion less sever. Fion's words came back to him… he needed a stronghold- a place to plant his feet with that of his people.

"You can take it back, you know." Miranda said, watching his face. "It is yours after all." But Thranduil shook his head.

"Leave it here." Thranduil said. "The land I once ruled with it is no longer mine."

As the days passed, he still had trouble sleeping.

"Alright, then," Thranduil began, calling his close confidants into a room. Arodien and the Ellyth were helping the women plan somewhere in another wing. Arodis had taken off to the control room, intending to help encoding some messages. "Stronghold," he announced looking around. Thorontur sat beside him. Fion, Hanon, Olben stood side by side and Legolas and Dorián sat across of him. "We need a stronghold. Start by telling me what we need. A place-"

"Money, builders," Fion said.

"It has to be somewhere reclusive enough for us to go uninterrupted." Thorontur said.

"It will be difficult." Noron spoke quietly. "Even with our skills combined, the enchantments will hold but not for long. Some things we cannot twist, like the builders we hire or the work we do."

"If we buy the equipment-"

"It will not be of any use since we do not know how to function it." Thranduil said.

"And there's money-"

"Money won't be an issue." Legolas said. "If we invest together, it should be enough. Oromë already said Ulmo would allow our wealth to transport here. Placing it in banks might be a problem-"

"No, it shouldn't." Thranduil said. "There are markets aplenty that don't care where it has come from and will still pay handsomely for it."

"It stills doesn't change what Noron has just said." Fion said. "How do we know that everyone involved in building will keep this quiet?"

"This was Middle-Earth once." Hanon said. "There is a possibility that the king's Halls are still present somewhere-" But Thranduil was already shaking his head.

"Not possible," he said. "Arda has changed face too many times. Lands have drowned and sea beds have drifted up. The Halls will be in ruins even if it survives."

"We can find the trees that we once grew under." Fion offered. "The trees that still recognize us."

"Also not possible," Thorontur said. "Forests have died and regrown since. The trees today will not remember the touch of an elf; much less know the ability to speak. But I hold in favor of finding a suitable forest, similar to our own."

"At the moment, I am most concerned about our wealth coming here." Thranduil said. "Círdan will be receiving the ships from Aman and he will send the wealth up to us. The rest will be tricky but hopefully not too difficult."

"Banks require test of identity."

"Banks also love wealthy people for the sake of their wealth." Thranduil said. "That's how politicians here get away with stolen money. We will be fine. I can think of a few who will keep their silence. We will handle it ourselves, not the Ellyth. I do not want any of them getting into any unnecessary danger of being recognized."

"And you need a new I.D." Thorontur said. Thranduil shot him a confused look. The advisor continued. "You said so yourself. A detective who disappears quickly will arouse suspicion."

"Fine and how are we going to get one?"

"Jason knows a few people who can help."

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

The next day, Thorontur was searching for suitable banks and placing calls. Fion, Legolas and Thorontur will find it easy, but Thranduil had to wait while they changed his identity.

"You know what I feel?" Thorontur finally said, looking up from his laptop. "I feel as if I am forced to play a game under the pain of death and I do not know the rules or the players of the game."

"I feel the same." Thranduil answered, looking up from the encrypted laptop.

Two weeks passed, and still there was silence. So far, whoever there enemy was, they were not moving. And it was starting to grate on their nerves.

"I am tired of sitting here, waiting to be victimized." Olben muttered once. But five days later, Thranduil was finally able to open the encrypted laptop.

"It was truly amazing." Thranduil said, sitting upright on a chair with the laptop on a desk. He was surrounded by Arodien, Jason, Miranda, Fion, Thorontur and Legolas, all of the craning to look at the screen. "You needed a certain alignment of all the markers to open it."

Multiple files came on screen. Jason whistled softly. "That is a lot of information." He murmured. "Anything interesting?"

"At the moment, I found some of these." Thranduil clicked open some of the files. "These are of a city named Pripyat in Ukraine."

"The abandoned city?" Jason asked in disbelief.

"What do you know about it?" Fion asked. Jason scratched the stubble on his chin.

"It was abandoned because of a nuclear disaster in the area. The whole city is empty now, what with the nuclear radiations so strong. Nobody lives there."

"Unless they are elves. I doubt it would affect us as much." Thorontur said. "It would make sense though. A city that no one would go to because of the dangers of it as well as the fact it will be much easier to place enchantments to keep activity hidden."

"Just like the ruins of Dol Guldur in the Third Age. Sauron hid his armies there as he replenished them and built them to full strength, all the while hiding those using enchantments." Thranduil murmured.

"We will have to go in and see what they have. Can we get to Ukraine?" Fion asked Jason.

"I can procure some visas but I am telling you this will be dangerous." Jason warned. "You will not know how many there are in the area and you will not have a foothold to take refuge in."

"Why don't you have one over there?"

"Because the enemy forces are there," Jason said grimly. "My men were driven out, few captured and killed some years back."

"I'll go." Thranduil said softly.

"No," All five of them chorused. Thranduil looked at them in annoyance. Miranda, who had been quiet the whole time, spoke up.

"I don't see why he shouldn't go." Miranda started to say but Jason interrupted her.

"I don't see why he should."

"You pulled him out of a comfortable lifestyle, earning a living he liked, pushed his people unto him with a Ring of Power and dragged him all the way here. I would say he has the right to go there and face whatever you will find."

"Miranda," Jason said through clenched teeth. "I said no. The last thing I want is to endanger a King, who has not only been a king for a few decades but also has also weakened. And do not try to deny it," Jason added when the enraged elf opened his mouth to argue. "I doubt you still have the strength that you would have had back when you were the king of your forest. Urban lifestyle has softened you, even if you are somewhat fit than most who chug down food by the hour. I don't want another word of this." Jason said with a tone of finality. "Now, let me take this to the techs and see how much info they can take out of this." The others murmured an assent and filed out. Before Thranduil left, however, he grabbed Jason's arm and leaned close.

"Don't think you can order me about." Thranduil murmured in his ear before straightening. Turning on his heel, he walked away.

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

The next morning he was surprised to hear a knock on his door and come face-to-face with Jason.

"I think I may have underestimated you." Jason said slowly, looking him straight in the eye. For a moment, he was struck by his frankness. He had not known Éomer very well, for the man always seemed to be in awe of his presence, but he knew Éomer had been driven by duty and honor, and he was honest, blunt and straightforward. Jason seemed the same way, but also distrusting everything new in fear that it will destroy anything that will harm what he strove to build. "I would like you to come with me." He began. "Cooped up in here has done nobody any good. So we try to get out a bit. I think you would like what I have in mind." He looked at the man, who seemed a bit uneasy under his proud stance. Then he nodded.

"I don't see why not."

They went outside to see two mountain motorbikes perched on the gravel making up the courtyard.

"Ever used one of these?" Jason asked.

"No," Thranduil responded.

"Ever ridden a normal motorbike?"

"At the insistence of my friend, yes."

"Most of the idea is still the same. Come on, we will go slow." They changed into suits better favoring the bikes before Jason led him out the gates of Grey Havens.

They went slowly at first, Jason teaching him. soon though, he became used to it and tried riding faster.

"Wait!"

But Thranduil did not wait. He had forgotten the feel of wind rushing by his face while living an urban life. Here there were no rules, and even the rocky terrain was very much welcome. Soon though, sense won and he had to stop a while later, letting Jason catch up to him.

"Thorontur warned me you liked to be reckless when it came to speed." Jason said, shaking his head. "I should have listened to him."

"I am glad you didn't."

They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the scenery.

"So how did you come here? What's your story?"

"Grew up with a military dad back in LA. Mum used to stay at home." Jason said after taking a deep breath of mountain air. "Dad was killed in an airstrike oversees. Mum stayed with us, raised us until both of us decided to join the army." Jason shook his head. "Mum never liked it. But when we were away, she had a sudden heart attack and she died. I was stationed along the coast at the time. Miranda never got over it. Blamed her for not being there and she left the army."

"What about you?"

"I stayed. Until i got transferred and landed in a bunch of soldiers overseas. Let's just say they did not have the highest of morals. Finished my time there and then asked for a resignation."

"What about the Fellowship?"

"I had no intentions of being the leader. Dad went on and on about coming from the line of kings and me and my sister used to brush it off. Who cares for dead kings when there is so much work to be done now?"

"Indeed," Thranduil murmured.

"We got caught up into it when one of my Dad's pals who knew about our lineage approached us and told us to do our part in it. I wasn't willing. Miranda was and she pushed me to it. But it was in chaos when we first came in. finally, I could not take it any longer and decided to muscle in and take the leadership on myself. It went for nearly a decade before your people showed up washed over the beach in Greece. What of you? Why did you come back to Arda?"

"I do not know." Thranduil murmured. "I simply felt restless there. The peace was starting to stifle me. It felt as if there was peace and tranquility and behind it was a curtain that showed the true situation lying beneath. My people were happy, my family was happily, but I could not find any rest for myself. I think I was right, in the end, given the situation."

"I think you are."

They watched mountain birds chase one another for a while. He glanced over at Jason and found him pulling something out of his pocket. It was a photo and Jason stared down at it, smiling sadly. It was a young girl, somewhere around ten years, sitting on a bicycle. Her hair was so blonde it was almost white; just like Jason's.

"Who is she?" Thranduil said, tearing his eyes away and focusing on rubbing his aching calves.

"My daughter," the man replied. "She was ten years old."

Thranduil glanced at him, momentarily stopping his hands. "Was?" He asked after a moment.

"She died. Third-stage cancer. Leukemia. She was so sick they didn't even allow her a bone marrow transplant." Jason smiled but it was twisted in grief.

"I am sorry." He said. "And your wife?"

"Killed in a car wreck a year later." Jason shook his head. "I think she wanted to die." He stared at it for a longer moment and then tucked the photo back in his pocket.

They made their way back to Grey Havens, stopping front of main doors and letting others take care of their bikes.

"Gliders are coming back home, sir!" A man called from a window.

"We are on our way." Jason said. "Come on," he added to Thranduil. "There is something you would enjoy hearing."

They entered the control room, water bottles in hand. Jason switched on a comm. link.

"This Glider-1," Thranduil started the smooth, calm voice. "We approaching base. Do you copy?"

"Glider-1, you are clear to land. Approach base." An unfamiliar voice answered. Jason then put in, "Try to land it carefully, Haldir. I can't tolerate ruining my hanger."

"Funny," Haldir's voice muttered through the link. Thranduil laughed darkly.

Oh, just parade them all to me and get it over with so that I don't continue showing my shock…

"You have an airbase here?"

"No," Jason said. "We have one in Greenland. We are quite chummiest with them."

Haldir in Greenland… Thranduil shook his head. Jason reached out and pressed the comm. link.

"Try and keep a smooth landing, eh? You and your mates wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in front of a king."

There was a moment of silence.

Suddenly there were series of exclamations of surprise wafting over multiple comm. links and Thranduil looked around to see men and women shake their heads, grinning.

_"King Thranduil?"_

_"My lord! Rumil, the king is here."_

_"I heard, big brother."_ Rumil's voice came over the link. _"I am on the link too."_

Grinning, Thranduil flipped on the comm. link on his side.

_"So have the wardens of Lórien governing the skies now?"_ Thranduil asked. He grinned even wider when he heard exclamations of pleasure from various elves at the sound of his voice.

_"We just do what we do best, Sire._" Haldir said calmly. He could imagine a small smile on the March warden's face.

_"Valar have mercy upon the ones caught in the trap of Lorien Wardens."_ Thranduil responded.

_"Oh, don't say that, Sire!_" Rumil's voice came on the link. _"They are not the type to show mercy to!"_

"Do you have mansions there too?" Thranduil asked Jason, letting another take over.

"No. we have cold and empty underground sheds near the airbase where they live. It is tight and cramped and horrible place, but those Elves love it, for some reason."

_I imagine they would…_

oOo

_Crime Scene,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

"What the hell is going on?" Riley muttered under his breath, kneeling beside the victim.

"35 year old male, Caucasian, absolutely no sign of blunt force trauma or gunshot wounds," Monique ticked off the usual, before saying, "But there is this." She tugged down the body's blue shirt, exposing his clavicle. He saw a bite mark.

"No blood?" Riley asked, dreading her answer.

"None," she replied, shaking her head. "But this time, the killer left his victim in the crime scene."

She gestured at the rocky ground beside the body. This murder happened in the Bronx, around midnight in a small alley. Riley looked there and saw the same sort of scratches of writing on the ground.

"Alice! Did you take a picture of this?" Riley called over his shoulder. The woman in question called back an affirmative.

"This looks different than the one before." Riley said, sitting down on his haunches as he studied the writing. "What is this… some form of naming their next victim, killing them and naming another victim at the crime scene?"

He half-turned, expecting to see Lee's thoughtful frown on his handsome face, a coffee clutched in his hand and one hand deep in his pocket. But he saw no one, much to his chagrin.

"You miss him, don't you?" Monique asked quietly.

"I am worried." Riley said, getting up and going back to her. "He took off. Packed his things and simply took off. Lee never does that. He went once to camping and that was because I dragged him out of his accursed apartment. No, something must have happened." Riley shook his head. "Brother just left. I am worried." He repeated. "Cassie keeps asking for him. Dawn is asking for him. And with the recent developments-"

"He will be fine." Monique interrupted. "He was not found in the car. He might have been captured."

"You know what they found in the backseat?" Riley said. "Plastic. The type used in toys, and fabric that didn't come from the seat covers. The idiot was out late in night buying toys for the kids and his car was nowhere near his apartment. He was being followed and he was trying to lose them."

"Riley," Monique said, placing her hand on his. "He will be fine. I know he will. Remember the case of the missing diamond necklace and African warlords. The handsome fool did not die even then."

Unknown to either of them, Alice had slipped away unnoticed. Walking away until she was sure she would not be pursued, she tugged off her gloves and pulled her hair free from the strict bun. Reaching her car, she got into it and dialed a number on her cellphone.

_"Alice,"_ a deep, melodious and obviously masculine voice greeted her.

"_You better tell that brother of yours to lay low for a while. His righteous actions can easily get him killed."_ She said. The man on the other side became silent.

_"What happened?"_

_"Another case, same as the one for Oropherion."_

_"Who was it addressed to this time?"_

_"Your brother."_

She heard a deep inhale on the other line.

_"Anything else?"_

_"Yep. They found the car. And the license plate was readable. They know."_

The man muttered a curse.

_"What are they making out of it?"_

_"They think that the detective has been kidnapped. And they are investigating who could have done this. But I can tell you here and now that this will make them work faster… and I hope they make mistakes."_

_"I hope so too. Keep an eye on Oropherion and his people. I don't want to lose even a single one of them. At least, not yet."_

_"So what are you going to tell your king?"_

_"Everything._" The man said, laughing. It was rich, striking many vocal cords at once but Alice knew the underlying power of command the voice had. _"Just make sure Oropherion does not land into more trouble NYPD is cooking up for him in the well-meaning manner."_

_"Of course."_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

"Noron's not going," Hanon said, not looking up. Noron frowned in displeasure but made no remark against his former mentor. "You will need him here to strengthen the mansion further. I am more accustomed in using my power in the offensive, so I will go."

"Fion is going as well," Thranduil said, "And Dorián." He paused before adding, "Try not to get captured, Dorián."

"Won't, hopefully," Dorián promised.

"I still think Thranduil could go." Miranda said.

"If you want to kill him, then go ahead." Jason drawled. "I think he is doing great in either gym or training rooms."

At night, when he finally laid back and the pain took him once more.

_Artanis crying, kneeling beside a grave, the stars alight above her... A boy walking in the dark...A brightly lit hall full of elves, laughter and music wafting in the air… Alqualondë in flames… Varda carrying a newborn in her arms… A black blade lying on a red velvet cloth… Men and women dressed in white, fast asleep in the gardens…. A coin flipping back and forth… Himself standing beside a grave, crying…_

"Thranduil?"

He opened his eyes, head throbbing violently. Arodien had dimmed down the lights till they were non-existent.

"How bad is it?"

"Horrible," Thranduil said, pain slowly subsiding, "But getting better."

"What did you see?"

"I do not know." Thranduil said, getting up into a sitting position. He looked down at his shirt, sodden in sweat. He leaned back in the pillows once he shifted them behind him in a more comfortable position. "It just doesn't make any sense."

He lay there, thinking. Arodien lay beside him, singing softly at his request. How did Galadriel and Elrond manage their fore-sight? He glanced down at his Ring, Húro's gems gleaming slightly. He always considered it a blessing of not knowing the future. It was better to know nothing rather than to know what the future may hold and make question every decision and the logic behind it. When the three Rings of Power came into their owner's hands, Thranduil had been insulted when they received none, when they were the ones standing so close to fighting an evil that entered their borders. But as time passed and he saw the eeriness of Lorien's slow decay, Olórin aging, and Elrond's ring plaguing him, robbing him of those he loved, he was thankful the place he was. And that had been one reason he wanted to refuse the Ring. But he couldn't.

Deep down, he knew why.

A desire to protect; it was built inside him, schooled into him from the moment he had taken the crown into his hands and was sworn into his duties as a King to his people. His desire to protect, where he would entertain every possibility, but never beyond his own state of morality, in an attempt to preserve his people. His desire to fight, wherein he would consider every battle move or strategy to take down his opponent.

Thorontur was right, he thought sourly. The Ring and he were far too alike. But his wife's singing finally lulled him from his dark thoughts and he drifted off to sleep.

The next day he was saying farewell to his comrades. Legolas had left earlier, going to the boreal forest. Their things were already ready, placed into the black jeeps.

"Take care." Thranduil said. "All of you."

"The last thing we want to be is to die off in a different place." Fion joked. "I do intend to come back."

"After all, we want to spend time with you." Dorián said. "Our king is back."

Jason walked over to them, a young man walking beside them.

"Your contact is in Kiev. He will have your supplies." Jason gestured at the Man beside him. "This is Dave." Jason introduced him. Studying him, Thranduil could not discern much, except perhaps he was a serious-looking Man, with a short haircut and a goatee. "He has spent time in Ukraine and he knows his way around over there. He will be your guide and he will oversee everything related to electronics." The Man bowed his head.

"Wonderful," Dorián said brightly. "The more the merrier."

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

Jimmy frowned, looking down at his combat suit he was wearing.

"Does this suit make me look fat?" He asked, striking a pose for Miranda. She made a face at him and then went back to her laptop. Thranduil grinned, resting his head against Arodien's shoulder. Arodis grinned above her laptop before going back to her laptop, sipping her coffee.

"Where is Életh?" Thranduil murmured.

"Having a shoot-off with Jason." Arodien murmured back.

"Come on, Miranda." Jimmy drawled, leaning towards her. The silver haired woman flinched away. "Give me your perspective."

"My perspective," Miranda said, her voice deadly sweet, "is that you better move back or I might just embed my dagger into you."

Jimmy shrugged and moved back, going to Arodis to joke. Arodien giggled.

"I think Jimmy is a bit awestruck when it comes to Miranda."

The forty-year-old African American with a right tattooed arm looked anything but a doctor and behaved anything but the man of his age. Arodien was right. Jimmy did seem head over heels in love with Miranda- who did not seem as keen. Breaking off his contact from Arodien, he strode over to Miranda.

"What are you doing?" Thranduil asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Techs found themselves with some sort of numbers in a file." Miranda said, gesturing at the spidery writing that etched out the numbers. "But there was nothing else to go along with it. I am trying to find out what they are. Might be important."

"What about you, Arodis?"

"Checking where our team in Ukraine is," Arodis answered.

"In other words, she is stalking her husband to make sure he is alright." Arodien said. Both Ellyth shared a grin.

"Margaret's going to be fine." Jimmy said. Miranda made an annoyed noise.

"You don't seem to like him very much." Thranduil observed. Miranda snorted.

"I don't care much for self-absorbed, obnoxious jerks." Miranda said, still watching her laptop screen. Thranduil chuckled.

"Oh, I don't think he is too bad. He just likes to lighten things up."

"Lightening things up is fine, wanting to light things up is completely different." Miranda's eyes shifted above the edge of her screen to glance at Jimmy, who was taking exaggerated steps in his suit and striking a pose with his fists on his hips. "And acting like a fool when you are a doctor is annoying."

"Any idea what these numbers could mean?" Thranduil asked.

"It could be anything, really. A year, a date, an address, a password from some account… it will take a while. And the only clue I have is Russia," Miranda gave a dry smile. "And that clue does not help much."

Thranduil settled down in a seat beside her, watching aimlessly as she shifted around in her laptop. His fingers fiddled with his Ring. He looked down at it, wondering. Headaches were almost persistent now. Usually the aches were low but at times it would spike, making him grimace outwards in pain. But the powers of his Ring nearly hummed Thranduil settled down in a seat beside her, watching aimlessly as she shifted around in her laptop. His fingers fiddled with his Ring. He looked down at it, wondering. Headaches were almost persistent now. usually the aches were low but at times it would spike, making him grimace outwards in pain. But the powers of his Ring nearly hummed inside him, as if they were thriving to come out and reveal themselves. That was when he realized, he never used the Ring, and the visions did not count as they were involuntary. He got up from his seat and went to Arodien.

"Thranduil?" She asked when he came to her.

"Is Noron still here or did he go back to the forest?"

"He is here." Arodien said in confusion. "He might be up in living quarters. Thranduil, what-"

But Thranduil already left, the door disappointedly open behind him. Arodien sighed and sat beside Arodis, who was studiously looking at her laptop.

"He cares." The younger Elleth said hesitantly. Her voice was low to keep others from knowing what they were speaking of. "A lot of things are happening together."

"I know."

Thranduil, on the other hand, marched up to Noron room and knocked until the Ranger opened his door.

Noron was a slim elf, about the same age as Legolas and Dorián. He had been Hanon's first and last apprentice, and that was because he possessed an unnatural, almost dangerous grasp of power than even Hanon, who was good himself. Silvan elves, Thranduil knew, were strange folk, quick to laugh and swift to anger. They did not forget friendship, but they did not forget grievances as well. With it came this strange power they used, which men called 'magic'. While Hanon's 'magic' was used in offensive more than defensive, Noron's was more defensive. But the elf had a difficult time controlling his power and it made him shy and quiet, but no less observant. In a field or in a battle, he was a powerful player.

"I trust you are not busy."

"No, for you of course not, Sire."

"Come, I need you."

"Me? For what?"

"For taming Húro."

oOo

_Kiev,_

_Ukraine._

"This is a pretty enough capital." Hanon remarked, his coat slung over the rod of his suitcase.

"It is indeed." Fion remarked. The weather was humid, making the coats they had been wearing when they left Canada behind them utterly useless. The coats were now either packed away in their backpacks, slung over their arms or over their suitcases.

"We need to get to a hotel." Dorián said.

"Already have one in mind," Hanon said. "Dave, you have been here before. We'll follow you."

"Metro will be fine." Dave said. Then he glanced around and saw the curiosity they were getting, standing just outside the airport. They stood out, with out-of-the-weather coats and the natural handsomeness of the elven features. "Be careful," Dave muttered, putting on his sunglasses. "Remember this is a hostile area."

They shrugged on their backpacks, grabbing their suitcases and followed Dave until they finally made it to a hotel.

"Hanon, Fion, take the beds and get some rest." Dave said, placing his laptop down.

"Is there a way to get security camera footage?" Dorián asked. Dave grinned.

"This is a two-star hotel. There is not going to be any form of security cameras here."

"Or any sense of total cleanliness," Hanon's voice came from the washroom. "I think I will just sleep instead."

What are you doing?" Dorián asked, sitting down beside Dave and offering him some snack bars they had saved over the flight. Fion's moaning with Hanon came to them… something about jet lag.

"I am connecting my laptop to a server we Fellowship use. I would like to know details from time to time." He said, opening a bar of chocolate and taking a bite while one hand worked.

"So what is your story in this place?" Dorián asked, drinking from a water bottle. Dave paused before resuming.

"I was stationed here for four years nearly a decade back. Back then, I was a scrawny kid who had a talent in computers. The Fellowship took me in and taught me. After that I stayed put. Until one night, in the outskirts, our foothold was attacked. It was a house. I escaped through a window and then hid in a stinking garbage dump until they got tired of searching for me. My friends died there and my mentor too."

"I am sorry."

"Yeah, well. Sorry is not going to bring them back."

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

There was a set of practicing rooms underground the mansion. While the mansion itself held rooms that served as gyms and living quarters, the underground room had guns and targets for practice. It was here that they trained most of the time. Thranduil had taken Thorontur's words to heart and had spent his time alternating between the gym and shooting practice. Húro was still giving him problems but thankful his pain had not gone to the extent like the first time.

These were eight to nine rooms, vast, painfully white and tiled with white lights on the ceiling. State of the art technology was used, showing full well that Miranda and Jason had money, though used entirely for the Fellowship's end.

At the moment, he went on to move towards the barricades used for shelter shooting.

"Put your enchantments on it." He said. Noron glanced at him before touching his hand over the barricade, murmuring something under his breath. The barricade shone before returning to its normal appearance. He felt the barricade thrum with enchantments, his natural instinct to sense enchantments working for him, but his Ring made him see the weakness, the chinks within it. He raised his hand and touched the barricade, at once the enchantments smoothening over, fortifying it.

"Now we need to test it."

"Test-" Noron turned and called for one of the men.

"Your name," Noron asked.

"Jared."

"Try to attack the barricade."

"What?" Jared said in disbelief. But Thranduil only raised his brow. "You want me to throw something at it?"

Thranduil nodded. "Something that might harm it," Thranduil added.

The man stared at him for a long while and then pulled out his army knife. Thranduil signaled Noron, who nodded slightly. Moving his hand back in a fluid motion, he threw his arm forward, letting go of the knife. Noron grabbed the man and ducked.

The barricade reacted wonderfully. It stopped the blade, like Noron's spell had forced it to. But the addition of Húro's powers caused it to deflect. The knife came spinning back, passing into the air that was once occupied by flesh and hit the opposite wall with a clatter.

Thranduil gave a grim smile.

It was remarkable. The feat was small as of yet and he felt a bit tired but in time he might be able to tolerate using the Ring more and more. And with it, he felt something more. A desire to protect, and to do it all costs.

"Are you alright?" The Elf asked, helping up the man. Jared laughed.

"Fine," he said, bringing out his hand to shake. "But next time, I think I will stay away when you two are concerned when it comes to practice." Noron only smiled and the man walked away, bending to pick up his knife before leaving.

"Do you think you can use it in offensive?" Noron asked him.

"I think I can but I am not willing to try." Thranduil said, grinning and shaking his head. "Not after what just happened, at least. I might try again later, when it is not so much a danger."

"Lord Thorontur said to keep you busy by practicing targets. Do you wish to do it now?"

"It will be splendid."

But they barely loaded their guns and fitted their muffs when Maemen burst into the room. The Warrior strode up to him, calling "King Thranduil!"

"Maemen? What's wrong?" He asked, catching the Ellon's urgency.

"Jason's calling you. There's something you have to see."

The seriousness in his voice made him act quickly. He went up the stairs and followed Maemen to the control room.

"Jason?" Thranduil called, recognizing the broad-shouldered military man. "What is wrong?"

"Laptop brought back something more exciting." Jason said.

"What?"

"We pulled up some files that the enemy has allied itself with or are contacts." Jason said. "We made a list of all of them." He accepted a stack of papers from his attendant and offered it to Thranduil. "You have to see this."

Confused, he took the papers and looked down at them. his fingers shifted through the papers, glancing at the photos attached to them as well the neatly typed letters. His mind was still processing, refusing to believe. Then he suddenly tensed.

"Maia," Thranduil hissed. "I know them. Some of them I had met and even befriended in my time in Aman."

"And they are all with the enemy." Jason said grimly. Thranduil shifted through the papers again and saw to his relief, once he finished going through them, Olórin and Radagast were not in the list.

"This is-" Thranduil stuttered. He rubbed his forehead. It was far too much to take in.

"Oh, no," Jason breathed. "Our team in Ukraine- Miranda, get them back over here."

His sister ran to one of the men manning a station.

"This is just escalating." Thranduil said, rubbing his forehead. "Now the question is why?"

"Something big is happening." Jason said. "This is not normal. Everything is far too in sync."

"Jason!" Miranda's panicked cry caught both of their attention. "Our team- we can't get through!"

"What!"

"Their phones are not working. We can't communicate with them!"

Thranduil shoved the papers into an attendant's hand and walked out of the common room. Scaring nearly everyone in his path with his furious expression, he skipped up the main staircase in sets of twos and threes, making his way to the living quarters.

He nearly frightened half of the Ellyth to death when he slammed open the door. Eyes searching, he spotted Arodis sitting on a couch with a laptop forgotten on a coffee table.

"Where are they?" he asked, striding up to her.

'Who?"

"The team! Where are they?"

Arodis shot him a confused glance and reached for her laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"My lord, they are right there in their hotel." She said, turning the screen for him to look at. "They have just gotten there fifteen minutes ago. I kept a check."

Thranduil watched the dots with bated breath. Each dot had a label of the Ellon or man it belonged to. Then the dots moved and he exhaled.

"Well, that is small comfort." Jason said. He hadn't realized the leader had followed him. "But I have to find out why they aren't responding."

"Responding?" Arodis asked, alarmed. "Is something wrong?"

"We just found something out and we had assumed the enemy tried to take out the team."

"Dorián's alive." Arodis said firmly. "I can feel it. He is alive."

"But they might not be for long." Jason said grimly.

oOo

_NYPD,_

_74th precinct,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

"There is nothing to connect the two." Riley said grimly, passing the reports to the Captain. Shaw looked up at him in worry.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing." He answered. "She was a waitress, he was a lawyer. She lived in a rundown apartment and he was wealthy enough to have his own place. They went on completely different routes, no common coffee shops or clubs or anything else. Wife of the male victim said she didn't know her and the coffee shop the female victim used to work in said they have never seen the guy."

Shaw rubbed her forehead in weariness.

"Sir? Any luck on Kraft?"

"None," Shaw said, weariness seeping into her voice. "I have alerted the police and we looked into everything, checked for witnesses. They only remember Kraft and a young woman whom you tell me was his wife fleeing from the car. We have nothing else."

"Her name was Arianna- I think. Can't we find out where she was from?"

"That is the strange part." She frowned. "Her name doesn't exist in our database. And the ships that brought her here have no record of her and they deny it was their ships that brought them here." She got up from her seat. "I am assigning you another partner."

"I don't want another partner." Shaw shot him a severe look.

"Now don't you argue with me," Shaw said, sternly. "I will not have one of my officers running around solving a very unsafe case without a partner." Then she softened. "We will find him. Don't worry." Uncomfortable to speak on the matter, he turned the subject.

"Any pressure from the higher ups?" Riley asked, folding his arms.

"A lot, actually." Shaw said. She took off her glasses and folded it. "But you let me handle it." Her fingers played with the ends of her glasses, "Riley, I am sorry. I had not known at the time. Lee was so calm. I was fooled into believing something was well."

"Weren't we all, Captain?" Riley said, sighing and shaking his head. "If you will excuse me, I have a case to solve." Shaw nodded.

"Yes, of course."

He walked out of the Captain's office, pausing briefly to look back long enough to see Shaw sink back into her chair, head in hand. He turned around and saw the elevator doors open, Monique stepping out of it with a shoulder bag and a couple of files in hand.

"Monique?" he said in surprise. "What are you doing down here?"

"I got something and I didn't want to wait." Monique said, dropping her bag on his desk and holding up the files in her other hand. "So I was re-examining both the victims and while I did not have anything specific, I did find a match." She flipped open a file. "The ink in both of the paw print tattoo are same. So is the design. It is almost like a template used for both." They shared a look of understanding at the importance of this small and yet not so small fact. "Oh, and I found something else beside the paw print tattoo." Monique said. She flipped open another file. "This one is a UV tattoo."

"UV tattoo?"

"Mm-hmm. Ultra-violet tattoos. Pretty rare but some people use it. And judging by the looks of this tattoo, it was pretty excellent job." She gestured at him to look at it. "What is that, some kind of animal?"

"A sable, to be exact," Monique said. "And both our victims have it." Riley's eyes brightened considerably at the news. "And not only that. This looked to be faded off, but not completely. I think the killer wanted to remove them, hastily I might add, in an attempt to hide the link between them."

"So they were involved." Riley said, excitement coloring his voice. Monique gave a broad smile and nodded before sobering.

"Any luck on Kraft?" She asked.

"None," Riley said, then he looked down at the UV tattoos. "But judging by how fast he was nearly killed in a rigged car, I am thinking it was no accident."

"You be careful, then. The last thing we want is to have another detective disappeared off the same case."

oOo

_New York City,_

_New York._

Alice entered her apartment, hands heavily laden with grocery bags. Using her elbow to switch on the lights she turned and shrieked, dropping her grocery bags before calming down.

_"You should have gone for your gun first_." The Elf said to her, laughing in amusement. He sat leisurely on her favorite seat, legs propped up over the coffee table, crossed at the ankles.

"_You gave me a fright_!" She accused him before bending down. _"Help me, idiot._"

The Elf shook his head, still grinning before reaching forward and kneeling to gather varied assortments of foodstuffs littering the floor.

_"Why are you here in the first place? Your name was written with the last victim on the Warg print case."_

_"Well, I needed a place to hide in."_

_"Well, then. Get out. You can't hide here. The last thing I want is to have proof I am connected to you guys."_

_"How impolite!"_ The Elf drawled, pushing back his golden hair he had.

_"How'd you get in?"_

_"Fire escape,"_ The Elf said.

_"Get out."_

_"Why?"_

_"You are going to cause me trouble._" She set her things in their drawers. "_And your name is present. What possessed you to go against your brother's words? And how did you even manage to get NYPD to move the case under wraps?"_

_"I have a good friend in the government."_

_"You have a 'good friend in the government' because you knew the details of him… compromising details."_

_"Those are the best kind of friends."_

She snorted. The Elf straightened.

_"I have to go. Time is up. Keep your contact with the Fellowship. You might want to keep check on what they are up to."_

_"Isn't that what I do_?" She asked. The Elf laughed, shook his head and went out the way he came in.

oOo

_Door of Night,_

_Aman._

Elrond stood tense as a taut bowstring, facing the Door of Night. The door was glowing dully in the nighttime sky, the edges of it crumbling.

"_I thought you said you could guard it._" Elrond growled at his father. Eärendil sighed, trying to control his own temper. _"I do guard it, my son."_

_"And yet here I see that it is breaking."_ Elrond continued.

_"I guard it and the Valar protect from being broken._" Eärendil snapped. The two dark-haired elves glowered at one another until Galadriel sighed.

_"None of you are helping._" She said, her white dressing making her stand out in the night. Standing beside her and just as tall as she, was Celeborn who spoke, _"Summon the Healer's calm and poise, Elrond. Anger will do nothing here, nor will accusations."_

_"You are certainly far too calm for the moment. Do you know what this means? What this could mean?"_

_"Aye,"_ Celeborn said softly. "_I know what it means. It means all the hard work towards peace and all the centuries of hunting down fell creatures are going to go to waste. Elrond, I know for certainty what this means."_

They all stood staring at the Door, knowing the evils that lurked behind it.

_"You told me the time had not yet come._" Celeborn said to both Galadriel and Elrond, who had the gift of fore-sight.

_"And the time had not yet come."_ Galadriel said evenly. "_But it is coming. And it is coming fast."_

_"You do realize when the Door breaks, Aman will be the first to fall._" Elrond said.

"And only Arda will be capable to become our line of defense." Galadriel murmured.

_"We need strongholds there, before the time comes so that at least our people have some refuge."_ Celeborn said.

_"You all speak as if it will break._" Eärendil said. He was a tall elf, with a stunning resemblance with his son Elrond. The Peredhil held himself proudly, the Silmaril shining upon his forehead. "_The Valar's strength is strong and there is still peace in Aman-"_

_"Peace?_" Elrond gave a bark of laughter. "_Are you daft? What peace? We have elves disappearing, Maia turning against the Valar. There is no peace!"_

_"Elrond,_" Celeborn warned. He knew the Peredhil had strained relationships with his family, and the current developing had not helped the matter. But Elrond paid him no attention.

_"You question the Valar's greatness-"_

_"I question his follower's blindness._" Elrond retorted. _"You are taken in the splendor of the Silmaril that does not even belong to you. Caught in the riches and luxury of your dwelling you fail to see the problem, fail to address it."_

_"Elrond,_" Galadriel said sharply, _"Enough!_"

Eärendil had become stiff as he stared coolly into his son's eyes. Elrond took a deep calming breath. And then he lifted a finger and gently touched the Silmaril with it. _"That will not be yours for long._" Eärendil looked as if he had been struck. Pulling his hand away, Elrond turned about and strode towards where the horses were tethered. Galadriel turned her attention back to her husband, ignoring the Mariner.

_"Thranduil has to know."_

_"And the Valar need to tell the others as well."_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

No need to panic, but I underwent a surgery that had a few complications. I am still recovering. It is the reason why I did not update for so long.

I am posting all the chapters here in unedited form. I am sorry, but at the moment I am currently unwell and cannot manage even a beta.

**List of Canon and Real Items:**

Door of Night- This is the door that is present in the West. Behind it lies the Void. It is guarded by Earendil with his Silmaril and his ship.

UV tattoos- They also do exist but in rarer forms.

Varda- A Valie, she is the wife of Manwe. She is also known as Elbereth.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

_He stood, dressed in gold-plated armor. Three banners were erected behind him, one of six-pointed star in the night, one of waves captured in the sphere and the last of an oak leaf caught in sunshine. He turned away, looking across the battlefield, to see an army dressed in black armor, with banners of black sable fluttering in the wind…_

He opened, his wife cuddled in his arms. He was breathing heavily, and he tried slowly to ease himself out of the embrace.

"Thranduil?"

"Hush, go back to sleep."

"No, no, I am awake." Arodien rubbed her face and turned to him. "What is it?" She studied his face before saying. "You have had a vision."

"None of them make any sense." Thranduil said, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

"They will make sense in time."

"Perhaps," Thranduil said wearily. "Sing me something."

Arodien settled her head on his shoulder, quiet for a while as she chose a song and started to sing softly. He listened to her, driving his visions away for the time being as his fingers absently stroked her hair. In a few minutes, he finally fell asleep.

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

"Six shots out of seven," Jason remarked, looking impressed. "I am impressed."

Arodien smiled.

"Seventh miss could get her killed." Miranda said, coming up behind him.

"Not if her first six got 'imp in the head."

"It will still get her killed." Miranda said. She turned to the Queen, saying, "Again."

Arodien did not complain and took her place in shooting position.

"I need to take to you." Miranda hissed in Jason's ear. She grabbed his arm and tugged, pulling him away from where the Ellyth were practicing.

"What's on your mind?"

"We are being monitored." She hissed to him, eyes turning furtively to make sure they weren't being eavesdropped. "Our team in Rome had to move again for the second time this month."

"We move frequently-"

"Really? Our team in Wales had to move, our team in Paris had to move, and our team in LA had to move- someone is following us!"

Jason rubbed his eyes.

"Have we lost someone, or lost any information?"

"None."

"Tell all of them to keep an eye out." Jason said. "But as long as we are not getting attacks, everything will be fine."

"Do you want to have one of our teams killed before you take it into account?"

"That's not the idea." Jason said softly. "Continue on as if it was nothing. We might catch this mole that way." Understanding dawned on Miranda's face. "Where's Thranduil?"

"Gone. He went with Nimon to boreal forest." Miranda said.

"And you let him go!"

Miranda shot her brother a severe look.

"He is a King, Jason. He will be fine with his people. Get back to the Ellyth."

With that, Miranda exited the basement, digging her hands into her pockets. She turned to the control room when she heard a voice call behind her.

"Miranda?"

She turned to see a woman walk swiftly to catch up with her. She slowed down her pace.

"Yes, what is it?"

"That set of numbers you told me to look into-"

"Yes?"

"I found what they could be," The woman handed her a few papers, "Coordinates."

oOo

_Kiev,_

_Ukraine._

"The Hell?" Dave muttered under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Hanon asked, sitting down beside him.

"I can't enter into the server." Dave explained, fingers still on the keyboard.

"I can't phone my wife." Dorián said from where he lay on the bed, one hand rubbing his eye and the other holding his phone. "It's blocked."

"They know we are here." Fion said, shaking his head.

"So what do we do?" Dave asked. Hanon considered for a moment.

"Can you still record the events and send them?" Hanon asked.

"I can, but I can only do enough before even that gets scrambled."

"Then we will use it sparingly." Hanon said, getting up. "We are moving forward."

"But that's suicide!" Dave protested.

"If we try to retreat now, they will have us killed. The only way to move is by moving forward. The least we can do is get into Pripyat and see what is going on in there." Hanon reasoned. "You will stay here. Do not leave the room for anything."

"It is a two and a half drive to Pripyat." Fion said, checking his watch. It's nearly night, so we should go now. If we take the advantage of the dark, we just might be able to get through the military checkpoints."

"You went to our contact."

"Yes," Fion gestured at the open duffel bags, containing night vision goggles, mottled green and brown combat suits, and weaponry. "Stealth is the only way to go. Camouflage will help and we have to take it easy. I hope you are well rested, Hanon."

"I'll catch what is left of my sleep in the car."

"This is crazy." Dave protested.

"Just do your job." Hanon said, closing the bags.

"Car is already here." Fion said, checking his phone. "If we leave now, we could still do this."

"Now or never," Dorián said, yawning as he stretched on the bed before getting up.

"You will have to go alone in the end," Hanon warned. Dorián was well known for able to sneak into enemy territory for information. He had done it many times for Dol Guldur.

"It won't be a problem. We will stay in touch."

They got ready within a half hour before taking up their duffle bags and moving for the door. Before leaving, Hanon placed a gun beside Dave and thumped his back.

"Just in case," He explained. Whistling, the former Head Commander of Rangers exited the room.

Dave stared at the gun before muttering under his breath. He dug into his pocket for his phone and dialed a number.

_"Dave?"_

_"Alice, please tell me you have good news._" He said wearily.

_"What happened?"_

_"These Silvan elves are truly insane! They did not seem so disturbed that we lost contact with our base-"_

_"You- WHAT?"_

_"They just left right now!"_

He heard a long groan on the other side. _"Well, I can't blame them- they must have spent so much time making plans on the spot back in Mirkwood-"_

_"And now they are tramping off to Pripyat like the Fellowship planned!"_

_"They-Dave-"_ He could hear the exasperation dripping from her voice. _"Hold on. These idiots will get themselves killed someday. I am going to make the call and we will see what happens then."_

_"How do you think the King is going to take this?"_

_"Well, he threw a vase in fury when he heard of his brother's name appearing in the second victim's case-"_ Alice's voice was disturbingly (and very faux) cheery, before sobering. _"I have no idea. Just… try to stay alive, would you? Elves are made of tougher stuff."_

_"I hope so."_

oOo

_NYC,_

_New York._

"Silver Star Line," Riley read out. "It is founded and controlled by a man by the name of Antoine Armistead." He glanced at the photo of Círdan, with dark silver hair and trimmed beard, dressed in a dashing suit of black and white. "He is quite popular in France for his works. He has passenger ships as well as cargo freights. But he is a recluse; barely comes out of his mansion in outskirts of La Rochelle."

"And he has agreed to speak to us on Kraft and this 'wife'."

He picked up the lid of the laptop resting on the captain's desk and they waited for the call. Soon enough, Shaw accepted one.

A stylish 'man' came into view, sitting on a lavish chair with ornate armrests. The 'man' was dressed in white pants and coat, his sky blue shirt peeking through the buttoned coat. His gold and navy blue tie was tucked inside, silver hair slicked back. He sat serenely, fingers laced on his lap.

"Mr. Armistead," Captain Shaw said. "Good afternoon. We are thankful that you took the time to speak to us in your busy schedule."

A smile tugged Círdan's lips.

"It is not a problem, mademoiselle." The 'man' said charmingly. He spoke with a faint French accent.

"I understand that you own both passenger ships as well as cargo freights."

"Indeed I do."

"Have you escorted a woman by the name of Arianna Kraft a month back?" She looked down at the record and read out the date.

"I am a busy man, Madam." The 'man' said. "Many people use the services my ships provide."

Shaw's lips twitched, and then Círdan's did the same. Had he said that he had not known her, out of all his passengers, it would have meant that the founder of Silver star Line knew the woman and was hiding something. She tried another tactic.

"Then we would like to have access to your records of the ships that entered NYC a month back." Círdan tilted his head to a side.

"My dear, I value the privacy of my passengers." Círdan said evenly. "I had assumed as the Homicide Department of NYC reaching out to me, was that I was being informed of something far serious. But details of my passenger will not be given out for whatever trivial reason." Círdan continued, cutting off Shaw as she opened her mouth. "I believe I have spoken enough." Círdan said, sitting forward. "If you wish to ask further questions, you may do so through my attorney."

"But-" Riley started but the call broke off. He growled and then bit off with a curse.

"We will not find anything else from that end." Shaw said quietly.

"I will go and see if there are any more leads." Riley said, straightening.

"Wait."

Riley looked back at Shaw, eyes questioning. The Captain sighed before saying, "There is something you should know about Kraft." She opened a drawer and dipped her hand into it, pulling out a file. "I had a security background check done on him-"

"You what?" Riley interrupted, eyes glittering in anger. "Kraft's clean-I know he is!"

"I had to do it-"

"Why?" Riley asked, fury mounting into the large detective. "Because you think he was bombed because he was messed up? Because he got mixed up into something? I am the one who gets mixed up into something. You have my file!"

"There was nothing." Shaw said over his rant, firmly. She held up the file. "He is not only clean but his documents are fake."

Riley stared at her, stunned.

"No-"

"Riley, Lee Kraft doesn't exist."

"Yes, he does. He was my partner! He was one of your best men!"

"And I checked everywhere. I checked with the feds and others- they did not know him either by the name or his face."

"No, it can't be true."

"I am sorry." Shaw got up from her chair, planting her fingers on the desk's surface. "I am calling off the search for him." Riley turned sharply at the news.

"You can't. He is still out there!"

"I will not have my people searching for a ghost or an alias-"

"He was no ghost!"

"I know." Shaw said quietly. "But he was not the man we knew either. I am calling it off. I do not want to hear another word about Kraft from you."

Riley looked into the unrelenting eyes of the Captain, before turning and stomping out of the room. He took deep, calming breaths outside, then he vowed he would keep looking.

oOo

_Valmar,_

_Aman._

_"You cannot deny that the Door is crumbling."_ Oromë ground out.

_"I am not saying it isn't." _Manwë replied calmly. The King was standing with in robes of silver, blue and grey, a crown resting upon his head. He held his staff in his hand, and his black hair was cut short to his shoulders and with light golden eyes.

_"Then we have to tell others!"_

_"No, we do not. At the moment, I do not see it as a problem."_

_"Elrond, Galadriel and Celeborn have already seen it-"_

_"They should not have."_

_"You can't hide this."_

_"I am not going to."_ Manwë got up from his throne. "_Leave this. We will not speak of it any longer."_

Manwë turned and went through a smaller corridor, returning to his living quarters.

_"Are you insane_?" Oromë stormed, following Manwë out of the throne room.

_"Questioning my insanity will not make your position any better- nor will I reconsider your 'request'."_

_"I am not requesting._" Oromë snarled. Manwë said nothing, causing the Forester to boil inwardly in his fury. He followed him into a sitting room. Varda was sitting in a corner, looking out of the window. Manwë sat down on a comfortable chair, looking up at Oromë.

"_The answer is no,"_ Manwë said.

_"Thranduil hates being left in the dark_." Oromë said.

"_He will stay in the dark until I say otherwise._" Manwë said evenly, eyes hard.

"_And this is why he has difficulty trusting us!_" Oromë said, waving a hand outward in frustration. "_He has to know. It is his right!"_

_"His right is to know just enough for him to do his job, which I am finding from my birds is not yet related to his Ring,_" Manwë tilted his head in a bird-like fashion, _"which, I must say, he is not focusing on."_

_"It is a lot for him to take in._" Oromë said.

_"Indeed,_" Manwë said. The two words suggested much. Oromë bristled.

_"You know he is capable for the position, if you would just inform him of what he has to face and what is expected of him-"_

_"No."_

_"Manwë-"_

_"I said no."_

_"Fine!_" Oromë roared. The earth trembled and the plants reacted violently to his sudden flare of temper.

"_Oromë_," Varda said softly. The Forester took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself and turned away.

"_Your word before you leave,_" Oromë's hand stopped at the door handle. "_That you will not inform Thranduil of this."_

Oromë stiffened and then turned around, face pulled in a tight calm.

_"I swear not to inform the King of this."_

With that, he left.

oOo

_Mindon Eldaliéva,_

_Tirion,_

_Aman._

_"I have already said no._" Ingwë said, turning his head towards her and her husband. His fair hair shifted as he did, dressed in shades of brown. Galadriel stiffened.

_"You might have to give some form of aid. You have to tighten the security."_

_"I refuse to do so when there is still peace in Aman."_

_"Look around you, Ingwë_." Galadriel spoke. Her voice seemed even but her face was pleading. "_We have elves disappearing. The Maia have revolted. How much more should happen until you realize there is a war coming?"_

The Vanya descended from his throne, one step at a time. Galadriel swallowed and kept her head raised high. Celeborn watched silently. Ingwë came to her, studying her face. Then he leant forward.

"_You are far too like the Noldorin,_" he whispered in her ear. "_I wonder, at times, if you even have the heart from your maternal side, grandniece."_

_"At least I am not blinded_." She hissed back, before stepping away. Here in Aman, she had shed the sorrow and the grief she once felt in Arda as the years passed and her burden of her Ring made her weary. And now she was young once more, the beauty of her hair gone well past her knees, her face and arms pale, untouched by time, and she was once again her younger self. Her defiance and her independence had not changed, melded perfectly with her noble bearing. She drew herself to full height.

"_Do not blame us, when war reaches your doorstep."_ She turned, her purple dress whirling about her. Celeborn had watched the exchange silently, followed his wife out the door, accepting his sword he had given to the door warden and fitting it back into his belt.

"_Galadriel_," he murmured, when they returned to their rooms. His wife was breathing heavily in shock and betrayal. "_Galadriel,_" he said more loudly, taking her shoulders and turning her towards him. "_Calm yourself."_

_"I have seen things-"_

_"Things? What things?"_

_"Don't! I wish not to speak of it."_

_"Alatáriel,_" he said, making her laugh and shake her head. Beautiful names had no place in times of unrest and fear! But he took her hands into his hands.

_"Do not worry._" Celeborn said, taking her face in both his hands. She rested her forehead against his. "_All will be well._"

She sighed, breathing more evenly, and her arms dropped, fingers grazing against the sword of her husband.

oOo

_Boreal Forest,_

_Canada._

"This is so beautiful!" Thranduil breathed. He was looking upon the forest Legolas spoke they used for training. The conifers stretched out in front of him, their branches light brown and their needles a vivid green. He could smell the fresh earth and it was beckoning to him. How long has it been since he last stepped into a forest with the freedom as an elf and not as a supposed mortal? Too long, he assumed, since he had left Aman.

"Isn't it?" Nimon answered, grinning. "Come, Sire. We should go." They moved slowly, crouched to the ground.

"Is that a wire fence?"

"An electric one," Nimon pressed the button on the ear piece he was wearing. "Chase, run the footage now and deactivate the fence. Yeah, I know I have only a minute to get through!" He removed his finger from his earpiece. "Come, let us go. We have only one minute for us, so that we pass through the fence and enter the forest."

Thranduil and Nimon remained crouched. They heard a buzz as the wire deactivated and Nimon commanded him to move. They moved quickly, swiftly bending the wires to pass through it and then ducked safely into the forest with the wire buzzing alive once again behind them.

"They put that there a year back." Nimon explained. "We used to pass into the forest and they caught wind of it."

"You could use another route to get in."

"Oh, but it is so much fun, Sire, to annoy them."

"I see Rangers have not lost their sense of humor." Thranduil said dryly and the two shared a grin.

"Come, it will be nearly an hour walk before we get to our shelter. Just enjoy the scenery."

There was much to enjoy, he saw. The grass beneath his feet was light and springy, and he heard the soft, scattered songs of the woodland birds, less than usual as Nimon explained.

"These forests are nearly full when the spring comes. They are popular breeding grounds at that time of the year." They came across a few descending slopes which they slid down to. Nearly an hour later, Nimon began to search the ground.

"You do not know where the shelter is."

"It is far too well hidden for my liking but it is what it is." The former Commander said. Then he knelt and embedded his knife into the soil.

"Ah, there we are." Nimon pulled out the knife. His fingers searched through the soil until he grabbed a rope knot and tugged.

"Very typical," Thranduil said, as the trap door opened. "It seems similar to the ones you Rangers used back in our forest."

"Old-fashioned shelters are harder to detect or to find."

Nimon eased himself into the hole before letting go. He heard a dull thud.

"Come on, Sire."

The shelter was similar like the ones they had in Eryn Lasgelen even in the interior, except for the modern lighting and sniper rifles instead of bows and arrows. He saw a few beds bunks against the walls, and cooling boxes holding water and food supplies.

"How do you practice?"

"We can't hunt game, so we practice on targets which we do not know and are set by others."

"And that works?"

"Pretty much."

"Where is everyone?"

"Out in the forest. We will meet soon."

They both shouldered backpacks full of food supplies, and Nimon grabbed his sniper rifle off his bunk bed and went up the ladder. They walked a great length, chattering all the while.

He drew in a sharp breath when a bullet whizzed past him, embedding safely in the soil. He pulled out his gun and directed it towards the general view where the bullet may have come in.

"Pity," Legolas drawled, dropping to the ground. "I missed."

"You were aiming for your father!"

"Nope. I was aiming for the small stone."

He turned his head and saw the bullet had embedded barely a centimeter from a stone, barely visible in the grass.

"Pity indeed." Thranduil mused, thinking how disastrous the shot would have been if it had been a real target..

"Do you think we can build our city here?" Legolas asked, looking up in admiration of the trees. But Thranduil shook his head.

"Men will never allow us to either build or live in peace, and if forest is overtaken by birds, then even more so. We will have to look elsewhere."

"Pity," Legolas murmured.

"The branches aren't strong enough to make houses either." Nimon said, slowing down to match their pace. "We can't build talans up here.

They walked a little further before coming to one of the larger streams. Thranduil went to it and admired the deep, untainted blue of the water before returning and helping them with taking out the food. It was light but wholesome, bread, fruits, and cheese together.

_~Who are you?~_

Thranduil nearly jumped at the child-like voice inside his head. He quickly erected up his mind defenses, before getting up from his seat. He looked up at a tree, touching its bark.

_~Did you just speak to me?~_

_~Are you nice?~_

Thranduil loosened a laugh.

"You didn't tell me you taught the trees here to speak." Thranduil accused, running his hand lightly on the tree's bark. The voices were young, not old and seasoned like the trees of Eryn Lasgelen once possessed.

"We wanted it to be a surprise."

Thranduil looked up at the tree in wonderment, unable to suppress the joy picking its head up in his chest, and not wanting to.

"It had been so long…" He murmured.

_~You didn't tell me who you are_.~ The tree accused, voice petulant and sulky.

_~My name is Thranduil Oropherion_.~ He said politely, attempting to console it.

_~Oropherion? Is that the tree your seed fell from?~_

_~You… could put it like that.~_ Thranduil smirked inwardly at the description. _~My tree's name was Oropher, actually.~_

_~Then why did you say Oropherion?~ _Thranduil rubbed his head wearily. He had forgotten what young trees were like when they first learned to speak.

_~Now, now,~_ Legolas' voice filled his mind, chiding the tree. _~Leave him be. We do not annoy our guests.~_

_~Sorry,~ _The tree mumbled, withdrawing into itself. The branches shifted, dropping cones on the ground.

"They are very young." Thranduil remarked.

"Too young," Nimon answered. "You should hear them chattering for hours on end. They are completely different from the trees of Aman, aren't they?

Thranduil wandered back to the streams, sitting down on the bank, the tips of his shoes touching the water.

"_You look happy under the shades of the trees."_

He stiffened. He turned his head to see the Vala stand behind him, his light armor shining dully over his body; his quiver and his bow were visible on his back, a long single knife hanging from his belt.

_"You look different."_ Thranduil said turning back to face the vast water body.

_"I look more like myself."_

_"You look ancient."_ Thranduil said. Oromë chuckled. He heard the soil sink under boots and Tauron said beside him. The Vala took in a deep breath.

_"I am happy."_ Thranduil said, lips curling into a smile.

"_You belong to your people, and you belong to the trees."_

_"Indeed."_

They sat quietly for a while, enjoying the silence. Then he turned to see Tauron. The Forester looked weary, as if he was carrying a great burden. He was frowning.

"_Are you well?"_

_"Hmm? Yes, I am well."_

_"Something is worrying you."_ Thranduil observed.

_Dawn playing in the lap of a golden-haired Rohirric Rider…_

_"Thranduil?"_

_"I apologize." _He said, rubbing his forehead. _"Headaches have become a bit common as of late."_

_"I cannot stay long_." Tauron said, looking behind him for a moment before turning his attention to the King. _"Time is moving fast. You have to know that. The Valar do not wish to tell me this to you or to anyone else, but all is not well in Aman."_

_"Tell me not that the conditions are worsening." _Thranduil said, heart sinking. _"What has happened of my parents? My grandson?"_

_"They are all well, for now." _Tauron sighed. _"A time will come when you will stand and you will find yourself with unexpected burden."_

_"What! What do you mean?"_

_"I cannot say anything more, Thranduil. Believe me that I would love to tell you more but I have been sworn into secrecy-"_ Tauron suddenly bit off with a curse, glancing at a bird that had its eyes uncannily trained on Oromë. "_I have to go_." He said abruptly, getting up. "We will meet again," he mouthed at the King. Thranduil knew why; all birds of the skies answered to Manwë. The Vala would know what Oromë had been up to.

_"Take care of yourself and everything you love."_ Tauron said, patting Thranduil's shoulder.

_"Wait,"_ Thranduil said.

_"I cannot."_

_"Yes, you can_." He frowned, his grey eyes piercing the vivid green of the Vala. "_You are growing weak. I can see it in you. Your hold on this world's forests are not what they once were, am I right? Something's happening- something that is leeching your powers."_

Tauron turned his head away.

_"Your eyes see much, Thranduil son of Oropher. Perhaps one would say, too much. Take care of that gift before it destroys you or the ones you love if you turn an ignorant eye to it."_

Thranduil frowned.

oOo

_Halls of Mandos_

_Aman,_

He walked swiftly down the halls, his knee-length, and slit riding tunics swishing about him as he walked. The halls were silent. He turned a corner and then he saw her. The Weaver stood, facing an open window, her fingers clasped under the red sleeves, her black hair pulled in a simple braid. Sensing someone looking upon her, she turned and met his eyes and paled, before abruptly turning and walking away in great speed.

_"Vairë!"_

The Weaver hastened, picking up her skirts and rushing up the steps in her path.

_"I will not relent until I get the answers I seek!"_

_"I cannot give you answers, Eärendilion!"_ She called over her shoulder._ "Leave me be!"_

_"Then let me speak to a weaver in your company!"_

_"Nay! You will not approach her!"_

She turned suddenly in a hallway decorated by long and beautiful tapestries. She drew herself to full height, her face expressionless. Elrond skidded to halt and drew in a sharp breath as the tapestries glowed, and the threads unraveled, crawling for him.

_"Leave."_ She commanded. Elrond drew himself into full height as well, his face firm and his jaw set.

_"I will not."_

_"You should not be here."_

_"The Halls of Mandos were never closed for the living of Aman. I am fine."_ Elrond said, taking a step forward. The threads wounded about his ankles, stopping his advance. Her eyes glittered in the gloom, obsidian in color.

_"You are taking risks, son of Eärendil_." She said. "_Leave, before I ask my lord husband to do the honors of escorting you out."_

Elrond gave a bark of laughter. "_As if he would have the time! How many elves and men are dead, Vairë? How many dwarves are going to follow? The world is spinning and shaking until it breaks and the Valar are doing nothing but sitting and waiting for a disaster!"_

Vairë stiffened. "_You will not approach her_." She said in finality. "_Leave now, and keep some of your self-respect."_

Elrond gripped the sword at his side until his knuckles became white.

"_Fine,"_ he said sharply. He turned on his heel, and took a few steps, not noticing the relief on the Weaver's face before stopping. Not turning his head, he said, _"There is talk of an uprising in Tirion. I thought it best to let you know."_

With that he turned away. Shaken, Vairë sunk in a chair decorating the corridor, placing her elbow on table, head sinking in her hand.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**List of Canonic charaters, items etc:**

Vaire- She is the wife of Mandos and is known for making storied webs that decorated the halls of Mandos.

Ingwe- He is the King of the Vanyar, also known as 'King of Kings'.

Valmar- It is where the Valar and most of the Maia live.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Chernobyl Exclusion Zone,_

_Ukraine._

"Hanon, wake up." Fion nudged his friend, jolting him awake. "We are half an hour away from the checkpoint. It is time to go."

They left the car, going one by one into the car for refuge as they quickly shrugged on their suits. They were dressed in mottled green and brown, meant to give them some coverage in the greenery under the cover of the night. Once they were done, they equipped themselves, their rifles' straps going over their shoulders, slung across their backs, daggers in their sheaths on their thighs, and necessary medications and the rest in the numerous pockets strapped across their belts. Once they were done, they sent the car on its way, the empty bags in it.

They worked slowly towards the checkpoint, keeping low to the ground. they were off the road, staying as far from it as possible so as not to attract attention. It took them nearly an hour, in their slow speed to reach the checkpoint, but they knew that success in stealth missions depended heavily on their patience and their secrecy.

"Comm. check." Hanon murmured, each of them taking their ear pieces. "This is Hanon, over."

"Hearing you loud and clear, over." Dave murmured back over his receiver. The Man had hooked two laptops together, one recording the audio from the Elves' ear pieces and sending them to the other laptop for a quick editing before sending them off for the Fellowship to take.

"Alright, let's move." Hanon said. The checkpoint came into full view, few minutes later, and they looked at it silently. "Might as well sit tight." He said quietly. "This is going to take a while."

The idea was to tire the guards out. The Elves were working cautiously, with no information on what they will meet once they enter Pripyat or whether these guards even knew what they were guarding within. So they sat tight, caught in the shadows and well concealed with the ability of not moving. It was amazing what the eye will refuse to pick, and no one would notice something that will not move from its place. Concealed by their surroundings, they watched and they waited.

"Guard change should be happening in a moment." Fion said, judging the tired and bored looks the guards had. "We should move. This is a good chance as any."

"It is a good thing this area is mostly woodland." Hanon murmured. Fion hummed in reply. Hanon shifted a bit, still keeping an eye at the security checkpoint. "There's their power source." Hanon said quietly, pointing for them to see. "I will go first, Fion will cover me. Shoot only when it is absolutely necessary and only to stun, not kill. Dorián, stay behind and make sure to follow as soon as the lights are out." Dorián nodded.

"You have two guards stationary behind the fence," Fion murmured. "One of the rooftop, moving." The Elf narrowed his eyes slightly. "I think there is another just by the power source."

"That one will not be a problem." Hanon returned, voice just as quiet. "Dorián, keep me informed if anyone of them makes an unnecessary move."

"Will do," Dorián answered.

Hanon took a deep breath, calming himself before moving. He moved sideways, cleanly avoiding the two stationary guards and entering the checkpoint from behind. The guard on the rooftop had turned away, and Hanon moved quickly but silently to the power source. The guard by the power source spotted Hanon but Hanon grabbed him, bending him forward and kneeing him in the chest before jabbing his neck, causing him to lose unconscious. Reaching the power box, he pulled out all the wires.

When the power went off and the entire checkpoint plunged into darkness, Dorián broke into a sprint. He narrowly dodged the guards in his way, which were caught by surprise by the power outage and were switching on hand torches to look about them. But the Elves were swift and they reached the other side easily before they knew what was happening.

"Keep moving." Hanon's voice came over the comm. link. "The first thing they will do is to look towards Pripyat than the other side. Stay low and do not make too much racket as you move through the shrubs."

Taking Hanon's advice to the heart, Dorián moved carefully but swiftly. Centuries upon centuries of practice and experience are hard to forget, and while he lived a few centuries of peace in Aman, his body knew instinctively what to do. He could not see Fion or Hanon as of yet, and did not pause to look for them, trusting he will catch a glimpse of them once they were done.

"Time's up." Hanon said softly. The light in the checkpoint came back on, and they dropped to the ground, hiding. "Who is where?"

"Dorián, look to your left." Fion's voice came over the comm. link. "I am by the shrubs." He turned and found his former mentor hidden there. He raised a hand to affirm it before becoming still.

"Hanon?" He asked softly.

"I am a little bit ahead." Came the answer. Twisting his head carefully, he saw a prone figure in the bushes, and he knew it was the former Head Commander of Rangers.

"Someone's coming." Dorián murmured.

All of them tensed. This was going to be difficult. If they were found out, they would be in trouble. If they tried to subdue the guard coming their way that would set the alarm off. Their best bet was to stay low and stay hidden and hope they would not be noticed.

"Hanon, we need to be concealed." Fion said over the comm. link.

"Wait then."

"I have about three minutes before I am found out." Dorián added. They all held their breaths as the guard came and he stood over Dorián's form. But the guard just peered around, the Elf near his feet concealed by Hanon's powers. The guard finally moved away talking in his native language.

Sighing in relief, the Elves got up and went on for a few distances in crouched position. Safely out of distance from the checkpoint, they knew they were now safe and got up fully.

"We can go on a sprint safely from here on." Hanon said. "Once we reach the city, we will have to move slowly."

They sprinted through the woodlands, keeping an eye out as they did so. It was a long distance and they did not know how long it took them- until the city came into full view.

Hanon, Fion and Dorián moved slowly, rifles at the ready. The abandoned city was dark and empty under the starlight and moonlight. Dorián lowered his rifle, looking around him in wonder. The buildings were worn, ruined from the lack of care and from the lack of use. The plants dominated the area, crawling up the sides of tall buildings, penetrating the windows and the cracks. The roads were covered with scattered grass, abandoned cars still parked at the sides, windows broken and the insides rotten. Metals had rusted, whether it was of the cars or of the streetlights above them. The trees had grown wild, untamed, untrimmed. At the distance he could see empty parks of separate neighborhoods, the swings and the playgrounds long forgotten by children.

"What do you think happened to the people?" Dorián asked.

"Those closest to the blast were probably killed." Hanon answered. He had not lowered his rifle, looking around him in wariness. "I think those farther away would have gone with some radiation exposure. Still further and they just might have come out healthy from this sort of horror."

"Do any of you feel it?" Fion muttered.

"Aye," Hanon said quietly. "I feel it. There is strong magic here." The three Elves looked around, feeling the air pressed down upon them. They were alone in the abandoned city… and yet, they were not alone.

"There is something different here." Hanon said.

"There is strong magic here." Fion said. "Hanon?"

Hanon had mentored Noron, for the sole reason of strengthening the younger Elf's powers and teaching him to harness them and use them. Hanon's talents lay in his powers. Murmuring softly underneath his breath, he cast his enchantments. At the end of it, the enchantments were placed, pulling down the enchantments already present.

The city took on a different look. It was still dark, abandoned but no longer empty. The Elves took up their rifles and pointed them, seeing Men stand directly in front of them. They fired, more out of instinct than anything else, still having not overcome their surprise. The Men they attacked were riddled with bullets, but they retreated, taking refuge by jumping down the road and taking refuge behind the concrete fence.

"We are in trouble." Hanon said softly, before ducking down and pressing against the wall.

As soon as Dave heard the Elf's exclamation, he knew they were compromised. He quickly sent the audios to the second laptop, encoding it before sending it off. Just then the room went dark. Dave's breath hitched, and he reached for his gun. Feeble light came from both the laptops, and he turned one around so that the entire room was caught in some part of light. He raised his gun, knowing it would be too futile, foolish and even suicidal if he left the room and tried to flee. In open sight, he was more of a target than he was in a small room, where he could have the upper hand. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he calmed his breathing, which sounded shallow and quick to his ears. His senses had sharpened but he could not still pick the silent footsteps behind the closed door of the room, and the curtained windows.

The door crashed down and the windows broke, allowing the intruders into the room. Instantly he was outnumbered, but he kept his gun at the ready, glancing around him. The intruders were dressed in black, masked and hooded with only their eyes showing. Their guns were silenced and they were vigilant.

One of the intruders stepped forward, holding a gun pointing directly at his chest, lengthened by a silencer. He was masked and dressed in black like the rest of his group, but his eyes were bright and untouched by shadow. Then, much to Dave's surprise, he lowered his gun. Dave did not lower his.

_"All that is gold does not glitter."_ Dave's gun faltered at the voice, so light and unmistakablyElven.

_"The crownless again shall be king."_ Dave replied, lowering his gun.

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

"What do you have?" Thranduil asked, clutching the hand of his wife as they walked into the control room. Életh entered close behind.

"A problem," Miranda answered, standing just behind where Arodis was sitting. "Listen."

Arodis played a record and the voices of Hanon, Dorián and Fion filled the room. It ended with a gunshot and Hanon's words 'We are in trouble'.

"That's the last audio." Miranda said.

"What else is there?" Thranduil said, feeling Armes' hand clutch his tighter.

"Arodis?" Miranda said, turning to the Elleth sitting in front of the laptop.

"Fion, Hanon and Dorián are moving." Arodis said. "But Dave- he hasn't moved since he is in the room-at all."

"No," Thranduil said, sighing deeply.

"It is possible. We are completely cut off. The Elves do not have a long while to live."

oOo

_Pripyat,_

_Ukraine._

"Move, damn it!" Hanon shouted, grabbing Dorián and shoving him over the fence, taking cover behind him. He jumped over the fence and lowered to the ground, back pressed against the wooden fence that gave them cover. He could feel the fence vibrate as bullets thudded into it.

"We have to retreat." Dorián muttered. "We will get killed here, or worse, they will capture us and find out the Fellowship's plans."

"Retreating back will be harder than you think." Hanon said, rising and returning the shots. There were three Men behind the trees, taking cover as soon as he emerged. He heard a shot and he gasped, ducking down.

"What?"

"There's a sniper." Hanon said. "This has just become more difficult."

"Use your powers then." Fion said.

"Not yet." Hanon said, frowning. Dorián rose and answered the fire before ducking down; narrowly missing the sniper's shot for his head. "Something tells me not yet. Let us wait a little while longer."

"Like now?" Dorián asked grimly. "Take a look." The two Elves complied with where Dorián was gesturing, carefully raising their eyes to see. Two men were walking to them, but they had an eerie beauty to them, mixed with a deadly power reigned deep within.

"Are those-" Fion trailed off.

"Maia," Hanon confirmed. "And this is why I did not use my powers yet."

Dorián, on the other hand, was studying the landscape, the roads, the pavements and the trees, making a mental route in his head.

"Do you think you can hold them off until I get past them?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I am going to go around and take out that sniper." Dorián said.

"Fine. Go!"

Dorián carefully made his way around where the fighting was taking place, keeping himself hidden in the wild bushes, thickets and fences. When he came close to the building where the sniper had taken safety, he spotted three Men guarding the door, hidden behind overturned, rusted trashcan and thick trunks of trees. He took out his shotgun and killed two, and sprinting to the one closest to him and butting him hard on the temple. The Man's eyes rolled backward and Dorián stepped back, shooting him on the head and letting him collapse on the ground.

He saw a pouch of grenades with on the Man's corpse and took it. He ducked down and slowly made his way to the building, not wanting to be seen. The building was multi-storied, with broken windows and no doors, the wood rotten and gone after so many years. He entered the building, pulling out his dagger and leaving his rifle strapped to his back. He moved forward slowly, before reaching the staircase. He went up, eyes and ears alert. He had seen where the bullets were coming from and he had guessed they were coming from ninth or tenth floor. And while he appreciated the need of stealth, he also knew neither Fion nor Hanon would be able to challenge the Maia until he got rid of the sniper first.

When he reached the ninth floor, he heard the scraping of feet and the quiet gunshots. He moved to the room, door lost to time, and he saw… an Elf.

_"Traitor!" _He hissed. The Elf turned, reaching for his pistol, but Dorián lunged at him, kicking the sniper rifle off its tripod stand and disarming the Elf by twisting his fingers in an abnormal position, making him groan in pain. Dorián slammed his opponent against the wall, his hand going for the pistol and throwing it away. He grabbed his dagger, but the Elf punched him in the chest, making him lose his breath. The Elf used Dorián's weight against him, pushing him back. The Elf twisted Dorián's hand, dagger clamped in fingers by the bruising grip of the Elf as he slowly edged it for Dorián's neck. He kept his breath short and quick, clenching his jaw as he fought the force. His other hand was pinned down by the Elf's leg, but he could reach his other dagger strapped to his thigh. He grabbed it, unsheathing it and twisting it around, stabbing the Elf into his hip.

The Elf gave a shout of pain, momentarily losing his grip on Dorián's fingers. A moment was all the Mirkwood Spy needed. He wrenched his hand out, and then stabbed the Elf straight in the neck. Blood spurted out and he pushed the Elf off him.

_"The darkness has become stronger once again, if it claims Elves." _Dorián said sorrowfully, easing the Elf on his back and pressing his hand on the Elf's forehead, soothing him in his death throes. It was a Vanya Elf, he noticed, with bright golden hair and fair golden skin. Re-sheathing his dagger, he went to the windowsill. Grabbing the sniper rifle, he quickly righted it and aimed for the Maia. He shot and saw to his satisfaction, one fall. The other Hanon and Fion took down himself. He briefly considered staying here, but he knew that if there were enemies at the entrance of the building, he would be trapped. He grabbed the sniper rifle and the stand and threw it out the window before swiftly making his way out the room, down the steps and out of the building.

Reaching into the grenade pouch, he took two out and threw it towards the approaching Men. They gave a shout of warning but the grenades exploded, killing them. He took out two more and threw them on the other side, killing more Men. He sprinted to join his companions.

It still was not enough.

They were surrounded, more and more coming for them.

They were trapped, Hanon thought in resignation, just as one of the Men pointed a gun straight at his chest.

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

"I wonder if distance matters." Thranduil said, toying with his Ring. Thorontur turned and looked at him sharply.

"Do not." The advisor warned. "We do not know the full effects of the Ring and the last thing we want is to have you completely drained of your strength."

But Húro was restless, eager. He felt it tug at him, urging him to let him be, yearning to be set free. The Ring of Storm was feeling the urge to be violent and he wondered, just for a moment… He looked down at his Ring, the white gem gleaming brightly, with the colored gems on either side. He felt a yearning to protect and to shelter his people, but how? He let go of his left hand, where Húro was adorned on his index finger and tapped his fingers restlessly on the tabletop. How could he give protection to his team in Ukraine? How indeed? His right hand dug into his pocket and he pulled out his cellphone. He searched Pripyat, noting how it was completely excluded from everything else. They would not have cover, even if they wanted to retreat. They would be dead before they reached the outskirts of the city.

Húro awoke, eager and able, tugging at him to take the chance, to take the moment to fight back. He felt the yearning awaken within him, a yearning to protect and save. He fiddled with his Ring of Storm. Thranduil surrendered to the yearning.

But he was in trouble.

His constant, dull headache turned into a full-blown migraine, worse than the one he had in the beginning. Húro was in joy to finally work to its fullest, but Thranduil's head pained him like nothing else. He leaned forward, face contorted in agony, vision blinded as he tried to find something to clutch to.

"Thranduil!" He heard Thorontur's cry and something falling to the ground. Firm hands gripped his shoulders, helping him get off his chair. He was leaning on someone, probably Thorontur himself.

"Somebody go and get Jimmy! And find Lady Arodien!"

"No," he tried to said, his voice distant to his ears as he argued feebly, but Thorontur was not listening. He was hoisted off his feet, and he complained at the manhandled in disoriented words. His collar was loosened as he was laid down on his bed. The burning light was dimmed and his friend was speaking softly to him, but he could not hear him.

_He was standing in front of a blade, broken, with shards placed by the hilt in the rough image of the sword. He felt someone behind him and he turned, instinctively. A young woman stood, dressed in white, her long golden hair flowing down her back .her skin was pale and she looked lady-like in her posture. "It needs to be remade." She said softly._

He felt an injection enter his body and he grimaced at the pressure and sickening nausea.

_He saw men and women dressed in white fast asleep in gardens,_

The pain let down and he raised his hand to convey his need. Someone grabbed him and helped him, pushing a trashcan his way for him to retch. He hadn't opened his eyes, and his headache worsened from the chatter around him, no matter how quiet it was. How much time had passed he did not know.

"Thranduil has never been like this…"

"I can't give him more, not if I want to endanger his life…"

"How much...pain… What do you think he did?"

"Thranduil," he snapped back to reality, the pain still too great to completely open his eyes and listen properly to his surroundings, but he knew it was his Armes speaking. "Thranduil, you have to let go."

Let go? And let his people die, so far from safety?

"Let go, Thranduil."

He wouldn't. He couldn't.

But the pain was far too great, and he was tiring quickly. He fought for a little while, wanting to hold on but the pain proved to be too great and the weariness finally overcame him. He surrendered to his sleep.

He woke slowly to a darkened room. He heard steady breathing beside him and he turned his head, seeing Armes sleeping, one hand over his head, fingers still entwined with his hair where she probably drifted off to sleep while she stroked his head. He tried getting up without making a sound, but Arodien felt the movement and woke.

"Thranduil," she said softly, as if unsure his headache still persisted. "How do you feel?"

"Better," he got up, grimacing when he felt his clothes stick to him. he was still wearing the same clothes when he tried to use Húro, meaning not much time must have passed. "How long have I slept?"

"Three hours," she said. Then her face broke into worry. "Oh, you were in so much pain. We gave you two shots but we daren't give you more. We were afraid the painkillers would kill you instead."

"You did well." Thranduil said, rubbing her back soothingly with one hand and his own face with the other. He was so tired.

"No, you did well." Arodien said, pressing her hand against his cheek. "We were worried, when we saw the pain. Where are you going?"

"For a shower," Thranduil answered, getting up. "I need to freshen myself."

"Leave the door open."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and Arodien rolled her eyes.

"The last thing we want is you to have a migraine with a door locked."

"If that's what you mean."

Arodien threw a pillow at him, which he ducked, chuckling as he went to their bathroom. He did close the door but did not lock it, knowing Arodien's words held truth. His head was throbbing dully.

The water was soothing. He pondered on his migraine as he did so. This time the migraine had been different. The last time he had a migraine; it had been when Húro was temperamental. It had been fury, restlessness. But this time, it was different. Húro was put to use, and he had felt its joy, its unrestricted happiness when it was finally let loose. But this was a problem. It was far too unrestricted and unbounded. That was the reason why he felt the migraine instead. The pain was probably because he had not expected the gravity of it. He jumped at the knock he heard on the door.

"Everything alright in there?" Arodien's voice came.

"Fine," he called back.

He hoped what he had done was good enough.

oOo

_Pripyat,_

_Ukraine._

Something was different.

Hanon realized it as soon as they saw the look of confusion in one of the Men's eyes. Their enemies gasped around them and took a step back. Hanon shared a look of confusion and surprise with his companions.

"What new delivery is this?" The Man hissed, clutching his gun tighter.

"They can't see us." Fion said, realization dawning.

"They can't hear us either." Hanon said quietly, noticing how they did not respond to Fion's fairly loud exclamation. "I do not know what this is but something is helping us. Let us move. Move!" He barked when his companions were still rooted to the ground. They slung their rifles across their chests and picked up the pace, sprinting away.

"There is a power surrounding us." Fion said. "Something that is protecting us- a friend!"

"FIND THEM!"

"We will speak of this later. Let's just try to get out of here alive." Dorián broke into the two Elves' conversation. Hanon, being a naturally good sprinter was must faster than the other two. "We have back to the checkpoint where we broke through. Move!"

They kept running, hearing firing shots behind them, but they were not worried. Those were warning shots, meant to scare but not to kill. They could not see them nor could they hear them, so they were safe for now. They heard howling from a distance and Hanon skidded to a halt, a look of horror on his face mirrored on the faces of his companions.

_"Ai Elbereth!" _Fion breathed. _"It cannot be."_

_"Wargs," _Hanon said grimly. _"I will not forget that sound wherever I may go and however long it is. Go now! I do not think this strange shield will hide our scents!"_

They ran on a greater speed than before, this time running for their lives. But all three of them knew in their hearts they could not outrun Wargs. They needed help.

"That's a bog." Dorián said, pointing. Hanon and Fion understood what he meant. Scents can be lost if they passed through there. This bog was a decaying mass made just at the beginning of Pripyat. Without slightest hesitation, they lunged through there, uncaring what happened to their clothing or weaponry, if it meant getting out of there alive.

"Keep moving." Hanon said. They moved into the bog, crossing it. "Hold."

With deep breaths, they turned to see the Wargs. They were as large as they once remembered them to be, dark brown fur and large teeth that were bared in a snarl. Wargs did not have good eyesight than they had a sense of smell. The Wargs hissed and snarled, not able to distinguish the scent of the bog from the Elves.

"On my count," Fion said, knowing Hanon was busy casting his enchantments. "One, two…"

"Three," Hanon finished and they sprinted into the wild. They heard the yips and growls behind them. Hanon did briefly consider making a stand and fighting the Wargs but he knew in the long run, they would be ones who corpses would have been given to feed the Wargs. He could not take such a risk, being so heavily outnumbered. A mission that was supposed to have been of stealth had turned into a risk of life and death.

They did not know how long they ran, powered by determination and will for survival. Until at last, time passed and they heard no longer the sounds of beasts at chasing their heels.

"Hold," Hanon ordered, just as he sure they were not being followed. The others stopped gladly, Fion leaning over to catch his breath and Dorián sitting down and easing his muscles. Hanon was also trying to catch his breath, head cocked to listen but he heard nothing.

"We have lost them."

Fion pulled out his water bottle, encased in a green metal matching his suit and took a few small sips before passing it on. The other two Elves took it gratefully before returning the near empty bottle back to its owner.

"Dave is gone for sure." Dorián said, his breathing now steady. "He has not spoken to us since we made found the nest. We are on our own from her on"

"Getting to Kiev is most important at the moment." Hanon said, getting up. The Elf's deft fingers went for his buttons, taking off his suit and revealing the civilian clothing he was wearing underneath.

"What are you doing?"

"Shedding these clothes. They will now only make us look more conspicuous out here. And Men back at the checkpoint could smell this a mile away."

"They would also see us if we come too close."

"We are not going to the checkpoint." Hanon said. "We are taking a long route. We will go round and then reach the road. We are either walking back to Kiev or we will hitchhike if we do find someone at this late hour."

"And the Wargs?" Dorián asked. Hanon smiled grimly.

"They stopped the chase on purpose. Have you noticed? They would rather let us go than let their precious creatures out wide in the open. I doubt we will see them again tonight, but they made one thing clear; they will hunt us down now." Hanon offered a hand to Fion, who took it to get up. Dorián got up as well. "Come on. We have a while to go yet."

It took them nearly three hours to cross the thickets, and keep a wide berth from the checkpoints and return to the road. They kept walking at the side of the road, not talking, each one left to his own thoughts. Then they heard honking and bright headlights coming their way. Dorián looked up to see a truck coming towards them. it stopped and a driver looked down and said something in Ukrainian. But Hanon gave an apologetic smile and shook his head, indicating he did not know what he was saying.

"You lost, sir?" The man asked, his voice heavily accented as he stumbled over the English.

"We are." Hanon answered. "Our car broke down some miles away and we are going to Kiev."

"Kiev? Come! Come! I take you!"

"Thank you." Hanon answered, gesturing at the other two to jump into the car. All three Elves squeezed in the front. The man was old, a little more than sixty, and he chatted away. They were all silent, but they smiled and hummed in reply whenever he expected them to. Just as they entered Kiev, Hanon asked the man to drop them at a stop and he did so kindly.

None of them noticed the man glance at them thoughtfully before heading on his way.

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

Thranduil had refused to go back to bed, but everyone could see the weariness on his face. He laid his head on his wife's shoulder, seeking comfort and support, his face drawn from exhaustion. They had tried to persuade him but he was adamant. He planned to stay awake until he found news. Three more hours passed tense and difficult, until one of the men came running. He breathlessly called for Miranda and Jason. Arodis followed them. Thranduil had raised his head up by this point and they sat rigidly still until they returned.

"They are alive." Arodis said.

"And I," Miranda said, smiling, "have just had contact with them. A good job coupled with the finding what the numbers meant." All of them sighed in relief, and Thranduil briefly closed his eyes, thankful that he had been able to use Húro. Miranda touched his shoulder lightly for a moment, grinning at him. "You did good job out there." She told him.

"And nearly killed himself," Jason muttered under his breath. Miranda, who was holding a thin metal rod in her hand, whacked his hand over the knuckles, making his older brother yelp in pain.

"Way to kill the mood," she said to him, while Jason nursed his hand.

"What about Dave?"

"There was nothing." She said, sobering. "They snuck back to the hotel they were staying and saw cops swarming all over the place. Dave would probably have deleted all evidence on the laptops, so that should not be any worries-"

"And maybe he might not have." Jason said. "He might not have the time."

"Come on, Jason, it is a standard protocol to wipe out all hard drives in face of danger-"

"I am just saying he might have been assaulted far too fast to have the time to remove the data."

Miranda sighed but did not try to negate the assumption.

"The reason why Dave's position remained the same is because they took out his tracker before capturing him." Jason murmured. Thranduil then remembered something that Miranda had said.

"You said something about the numbers related to Russia-"

"They were coordinates." Miranda explained, reaching for Arodis' laptop. "May i?" The Elleth gestured at her to take it. "And they were coordinates for a place called Mirny, a town. It is in Russia."

"What's so special about it?" Thranduil asked.

"I have no idea," Miranda said. "It is just a sleepy town. I mean, there is nothing too great about it."

"Could it have another nest?" Thranduil asked.

"Highly unlikely," Jason said. "It is populated and the enemy prefers places where they wouldn't have such surveillance from the public."

"Whatever is over there, I am sure it is something more of interest." Miranda said. "I think we should study it."

"Indeed, we should." Thranduil said.

Miranda was studying him closely.

"Are you well enough to travel?"

"He is not going." Jason said.

"Jason, come on," Miranda started to say but the leader interrupted. "Miranda, enough." He said. "We have already gone through this. He is not leaving the safety of this-"

"I am going." Thranduil said softly.

"No you are not." Jason snapped.

"And why shouldn't I?" Thranduil asked, getting up from where he had been reclining in the couch with his wife and sitting straight, his head held high. His voice had resumed his kingly tone, which he used rarely, but especially with those who thought they could command him.

Jason ignored him.

"What would happen if you have another attack?" Jason asked, gesturing at the hand he knew was adorned by Húro, though he could not see the Ring of Storm. "The pain is far too great and your headaches are persistent."

"Jimmy can go with us." Miranda said.

"Why in Arda am I leader when I get vetoed by my sister?"

"Because your head becomes too big if I don't do my job as your sister," Miranda said sweetly. "And I am going. Jimmy will come too, with Thranduil, of course."

"And whatever I say you will not do." Jason said.

"Nope," Miranda said.

"Fine, I will see what I can do. Be ready to live in a moment's notice."

"There is a problem. Who knows Russian?"

"I do," Miranda said. Thranduil and Armes threw her a confused look and she elaborated. "I learned it in college."

"Let Olben come too." Thranduil said. "He is an able Warrior and I trust him."

"Let me go and make the arrangements. I have to go to the control room anyway. I need to alert them about Dave anyway."

The thought of the missing Man sobered them.

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

"My gold and jewels have come from Aman." Thorontur announced, folding his arms as he studied Thranduil. He looked up from where he had been packing his bags. "Círdan has sent it by ship here, and it has been transported to Toronto."

"What do you intend to do?"

"I intend to place it in a bank first, and then I will steadily sell it for gold. Let us see how the banks we spoke of work and then we will start shipping yours and your son's over here."

"Very well then." Thranduil said, returning to his packing. Thorontur had fallen silent behind him but Thranduil sensed he wanted to say something else.

"I wish to take Lady Arodien with me."

"No."

"Thranduil-"

"I said no." Thranduil said, getting up and facing his advisor.

"She feels useless here." Thorontur said slowly, trying to make him understand. But Thranduil did not want to understand. This was getting more and more dangerous as the days went pass. The last thing he wanted was his wife caught into a whirlwind of danger. "You know her hands were never idle back when she was your wife in Greenwood. Training in war was never her style. Let her come with me so that she feels like she is doing something at last."

"She has been around with the lot of you, doing things for the last few years when you did not tell me you were here." Thranduil retorted.

"Legolas would not let her out of his sight then either." Thorontur said before continuing. "Thranduil, please; she needs this. You know as well as I she never liked being idle. And she will be with me. I will protect her."

Thranduil was not happy with the notion, and if truth be told but Thorontur was right.

"Fine," He said grudgingly. "But keep her safe."

"I would die before I let harm come to her."

"I know."

Three days later, with Legolas still in the boreal forest and unaware of the commotion, Thranduil was leaving with Jimmy, Olben and Miranda. Their clothing they packed was suitable for Russian weather.

"Take care." Arodien whispered to him, the jeeps already waiting for them.

"You as well, Armes," He replied, taking her in his arms and resting his head upon hers.

_A newborn cradled in Varda's arms, starlight covering the Valie like a cloak…_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Kiev,_

_Ukraine._

The first thing they had done after getting off the truck was to head to look for their passports and their personal belongings. Being ready for anything, they had agreed it was best that they hid their personal items in places other than the hotel. Each member of the team hid their things in a different location. Hanon had chosen a crack in the outer wall of a restaurant, pulling out his things wrapped in black plastic.

"Everything's here." He murmured, glancing down at his passport, his I.D, his credit card. Fion had hidden his under the gutter railing, held in place tightly with heavy duty grey-colored tape. He too confirmed his were in place. Dorián had hidden his things in a shifting brick in the pavement of a park. When they were done, they looked for a phone and Hanon filled in Miranda as he did. The night was growing darker and all three of them were getting uneasy by the minute.

"They were worried." Hanon murmured. "I told them we were fine."

"Did you tell them about Dave?"

"Yes, I did. I think I remember him mentioning where his stash was. I think it was somewhere in an alley down the same street as the hotel." They went back to the hotel, searching the alley.

"This looks cleaner." Hanon said, following the brickwork against the buildings until he found one cleaner and more moveable. He picked it up.

"It is not here." Hanon said, looking up from his kneeling position.

"It means he fled."

"Why would he leave behind his tracker?" Dorián asked.

"If he had been the traitor," Hanon said. "He would not have tried to stop us. Nor would he told us where he hid his belongings. He told us, so that we look for it and we know whether he had fled or he was forced into captivity."

"We should go. We have to get out of here."

"We will take a flight to Berlin and go to the branch of the Fellowship."

Knowing Ukraine was a hostile place with regards to the enemy, they decided not to use a private jet and went commercially. Going back to the airport, they managed to get tickets for the next flight.

They were in the waiting area when Hanon suddenly stiffened.

"Does anyone look familiar?" Hanon said, gripping Fion's wrist. The other Elf frowned and turned his head slightly, studying the surroundings around him. There, by the gift shop was a middle-aged man wearing ear phones, sitting where would be a clear view of the three Elves.

"We have to change flights." Hanon said. "Keep the flight to Berlin but take another flight to London. From there we could go to Toronto and then to Quebec City. I am going."

When Hanon came back, they sat in tension until the call of Berlin came. The man got up, and the Elves noted that he purposely stood with them. They moved to the boarding station, and they took their time until the man pushed past. When they were sure he made it past the station, they left the line.

"I don't think he liked that." Hanon said, turning his head to see the man staring at them, realizing that the Elves gave him the slip. Relief colored his voice. When their flight came on, they moved to it, tension finally leaving them when they got their seats on the plane.

"That went well." Fion said.

Dorián, on the other hand, was looking around him intently before sitting back on his seat.

"Don't think we are out of this yet." Dorián warned.

"And why would that be?" Fion asked.

"The woman in her twenties sitting on our right, two rows ahead." Fion looked at the woman he indicated. "She had been following us from the moment we stepped into the airport."

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

Jason came face to face with an irate Elf. For the first time, he was witnessing Legolas as a Prince, and not as a relaxed, easygoing Elf. His hands were clenched by his sides, blue eyes suddenly cold as ice in his fury, though it was obvious that he was trying to control his temper.

"You had better explain to me why I did not receive any word about our team in Ukraine, my father's departure and my mother's as well while I was in the forest." Legolas snarled at him in a matter of greeting.

"Legolas-"

"You better start explaining now." Legolas broke him off.

"We were not yet sure of the conditions of our team in Ukraine until now. Dave is still missing and the Elves explained they will leave Ukraine and reconnect with us once they do."

"My father?"

"We found the coordinates connected to Russia and your father insisted to go." Jason's voice became defensive. "I tried to stop him."

"Evidently you do not know my father to know he does what he likes when he likes to. My mother?"

"It was Thranduil's call. She is with Thorontur in Toronto."

"Why wasn't I told?"

Jason rubbed the back of his neck.

"Our communications are a bit compromised. I didn't want to share this information on it. We are looking for something more secure before reconnecting with every one of our branches."

Legolas looked at him for a long while and then nodded slowly.

"Fine," he said. Jason saw the Elf lose his fury and he was fine.

"There is another thing I wished to discuss to you."

"And that is?"

"It is about Melion."

"Really? Tell me."

Once he and Jason left on different paths, he went on to Melion's room. He knocked and the door was answered by Mithon.

_"My lord Prince."_

_"Mithon," _Legolas spoke quietly. _"How is he?"_

_"He is not getting any better." _The father said. His shoulders were sagged, as if he was carrying a burden on them. Legolas gestured.

_"May I come in?"_

_"Of course," _Mithon held the door open, allowing the Elf to pass through.

Melion was fast asleep on his bed, the bed covers pulled to his waist. Even under the shirt, Legolas could tell he was very emaciated. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes far too large for his face. His hair had definitely changed to a lighter color, possibly from the entire trauma he had to face during his imprisonment. He touched the Elf's hand lightly, noting the wrinkles forming on the skin. Melion looked old, weary, like a Man who was aging and not at all like an Elf. He had not gained weight, though there was some color in his cheeks.

_"He will not heal here." _Legolas murmured. _"This place is doing him no good." _He glanced at the other Elf, his father's loyal guard. _"And it is not doing you any good here."_

_"I shouldn't be sitting here." _Mithon said in a whisper, and even that sounded harsh. _"I should be by my king's side, guarding his back and watching his footsteps to protect him from harm, not here where my hands are idle." _But Legolas raised a brow.

_"Idle?" _He questioned. _"What is so idle about the hands that look after a son? Your reasons were just and that is precisely why father had not asked more of you. Your heart is here and it will remain here until your son regains his strength, and there is no shame in it. Father has always been kind to you, so you should not be frustrated about your duties. Had you asked him to let you accompany him, father would have surely refused. He has no need of you when your heart is here," _he gestured at Melion, fast asleep on the bed. _"In fact, father would have insisted for you to stay, because you are a father after all. But come; that is not the reason why I am here."_

Legolas sat down on a chair further from Melion and gestured Mithon to sit opposite to him. Once the guard was settled, Legolas spoke. _"Melion is not showing any forms of improving, and Jason was suggesting taking him elsewhere, far from all of this madness and giving him a place where he will truly heal. In this case, he was suggesting the Alps of Switzerland."_

_"And is the Fellowship there?"_

_"Those that live there are the ones who have served the Fellowship in their youth and then retreated to the mountains to live out the rest of their lives. Among them are healers as well. He needs time, Mithon, and he needs a place without the constant sounds of activity and excitement around him. You will go with him."_

_"But the king-"_

_"My father would approve of my choice had he been here and I will inform him of my decision once he returns. This, however, is not negotiable. You will remain with your son, however long, until he regains his strength and is no longer in any danger with regards to his health. After that, you are free to resume your duties." _Mithon thought for a while before bowing his head. _"I will do as my lord Prince asks."_

_"Do it then," _Legolas said, touching his shoulder lightly. _"You are my father's loyal guard, and while I hate to lose your services for my father, I know he would prefer you to come back without your conscience weighing on your mind."_

_"We will go to this place you are speaking of."_

_"I will ask Jason to make the arrangements, then."_

oOo

_Private jet,_

_Skies._

"Why on earth did I agree on letting him come with us?" Miranda asked wearily as she stared at Jimmy singing loudly, way off-key, and her fingers going through her pixie-cut, light blonde hair. Olben grinned, looking up from the book he was reading. "Don't answer me." She cautioned. Olben nodded solemnly, before returning to his book, grin plastered at his face. It was widely known about Jimmy padding after Miranda, doing everything she said or did.

Miranda still found it annoying.

"He really, really likes you." Thranduil said reasonably.

"Humph," Miranda answered the fingers of her other hand twisting the ring she was wearing on her thumb. "How's your headache?" She asked.

"Better," Thranduil answered. Miranda eyed him critically and he realized she didn't believe him. "Honest," he added, "I am not lying. I am feeling much better." Truth be told, he had better days, but thankfully most of his weariness was gone, his visions not more than the most recurring ones. He had yet to tell anyone other than Arodien about his visions and his wife only knew that he had visions, not the details of them.

_A coin flipping in the air…_

Thranduil scowled.

Olben and Miranda soon dozed off, covered in blankets. Thranduil could not sleep, head thudding dully. He spotted Jimmy in a corner wrestling with the cork of a wine bottle.

"This isn't mine." Jimmy said as soon as he spotted Thranduil looking at him. "I found Jason's stash in his room. I nicked one of his. He owes me anyway."

"How did you get in his room?"

"I am good when it comes to picking locks." Jimmy said, a glint in his eye as he uncorked the bottle and poured out a healthy amount.

"Making good friends with the wine, I see." Thranduil observed. Jimmy looked unrepentant.

"With the things that are going on, I am surprised you are not reaching for one."

"I know I won't find answers at the bottom of a wine glass."

"So how did you get here?"

"It started with my medical license getting revoked."

"Why?"

"I saved a guy's life, that's why." From the bitterness in Jimmy's tone, he realized that the subject was a touchy one. "They were prepping him for a liver transplant. He would have gone into a coma soon after the transplant because we didn't treat him for the underlying cause- toxins were in his body that were causing his liver failure. I didn't allow it."

"What happened?"

"I sabotaged the operation, that's what." Jimmy said, finishing his drink in one gulp before setting the glass down. "If there is anyone stickler to rules, it's the British. I got sued, they revoked my license. The guy lived but as thankless as he was, he still pressed charges. Anyway, I was unemployed until Jason found me and offered me a place in his ranks. I warned him I had no medical license and he said that's the reason why he was hiring me." Jimmy shook his head. "That was barely six years ago. When I came in, the Elves were already here. I met Dorián and the others in Italy. Stayed here ever since," Jimmy smiled. "I think I like it here. And not just, you know, for the obvious reasons."

oOo

_Moscow,_

_Russia._

"The pilot's exhausted." Miranda informed him, sitting down beside him. "We should stop here for a few days before moving on to Mirny."

"Any hotel in mind?"

"I was actually considering staying over our branch here."

"You have a branch here in Russia?"

"Two, actually," Miranda replied, reaching for her tablet. She fiddled over it before handing it to Thranduil. Olben leaned over for a look. "We have two Fellowship teams, one in Moscow, the other in St. Petersburg. The one here is led by Katarina." The two Elves looked down at the picture of a pale-skinned, very young woman, more of a girl, really, staring at the camera with large eyes and mahogany hair.

"She's… young." Olben said slowly.

"She just turned twenty, actually." Miranda said, smirking when the two Elves looked up at her in surprise. "But she is a quick thinker and she is alert. She helped expand the Fellowship here in Russia, actually. And the next one, the one in St. Petersburg, was made after she found enough people who would be loyal to the cause. It's led by a man called Demetri Romanov." The man was probably in his late thirties, jet-black hair with typical Russian features, and his eyes guarded and wary. Still, he seemed slightly familiar. "He is a serious person, pretty much like Jason in Russian form."

"Hmm," Thranduil replied.

When they reached Moscow, they briefly discussed the prospect where to go.

"We can't go to our branch." Miranda said. "Well, not if we want to bring attention to ourselves, at least. Katarina is shifting the team elsewhere, something we have been doing worldwide for the past few days." Miranda put her cellphone back in her pocket. "Come on, it's hotel then."

They had booked a single, furnished master bedroom. It became obvious soon enough that Miranda utterly refused the comfort of the bed, taking the single mattress they had requested from the hotel which she laid on the ground. Jimmy took the couch, the two Elves the bed.

"Who could have thought Jimmy snored this loudly?" Thranduil said, grimacing at a particularly loud snore from the oblivious doctor.

"That is enough to even awaken a dragon cast in stone." Olben joked. Miranda only had a weary look on her face at the sounds, before reaching for her earphones and jamming her ears with it before turning in an attempt to get some sleep. The two Elves, in spite of their quiet joking, found sleep soon after.

They had awoken briefly at noon, their timings completely ruined by the traveling and the new place. They spoke for a while, deciding on a course and keeping in touch with their pilot before Olben suggested they sleep a while longer. The idea was immediately accepted.

"No offense, Sire, but you move a lot while you sleep." Olben grumbled at the king, who only threw a pillow at him before turning around to catch more sleep.

"Now, now, Olben," Miranda said, her voice soothing as if she were addressing a child. "We must meld with what the conditions have provided us."

Thranduil's chuckle wafted from his pillow and Olben scowled.

oOo

_Mirny,_

_Russia._

As soon as they left the airport, Thranduil studied his surroundings critically. At first glance, there was nothing too exciting to be known about the town. The weather was dark, with heavy clouds above them and a chance of snow highly obvious. He felt the sudden chill when the wind blew and he turned up his collar, wishing he had taken out his muffler against the wind. The seasons were changing, so the days would alternate between bitter cold and sunny cold.

"Pilot said he would be fine with quarters he has booked for himself in a hotel." Miranda said, interrupting his thoughts. "We, on the other hand, would be safer without doing so."

Not wanting to stay over in a hotel, which would have made them far too conspicuous, Miranda asked around, until she came back to where they were waiting for her.

"They say there is an old woman here who makes living by letting people stay at her home at a price. She cooks for them as well. That should work for us. Come on."

The house she was speaking off was a quaint, and although small, they figured it suited them perfectly. The interior was thankfully clean, with a homely scent and it was warm, so warm, in fact, that they were obliged to shed their outer coats and gloves. The old woman, hair stark white and her back stooped, spoke quick Russian in spite of her age. The woman nodded at last, before turning and frowning at the sight of the 'men', as if noticing them for the first time.

She waved her finger at the three men and then at Miranda.

"Unmarried?" The old woman asked heavily accented English, eyes glinting in disapproval. Olben immediately stepped in, grabbing both Miranda and Jimmy by the shoulders and pulling them together. "Married," he said, gesturing at them both. The old woman looked at them suspiciously until jimmy placed an arm around Miranda and drew her close. The woman seemed stunned, her mouth slightly agape at the loss of words. Thranduil firmly squashed the growing, undoubtedly cheeky, smile on his face. The old woman's face broke into a warm smile, patting Miranda's cheeks and then squeezing Jimmy's cheek, gesturing at Miranda in admiration. She was obviously commenting on what a fine 'wife' he 'had'. Miranda was only staring at her dumbly. Humming to herself, the old woman left to go somewhere at the back. There was a moment of silence, where both Jimmy and Miranda were trying to process what had happened, and the two Elves struggled to contain their laughter. Suddenly, Jimmy threw Miranda a wide grin, removing his arm from her shoulders.

"Oh, honey!" Jimmy said brightly. "I didn't know we were married! The wine must have been stronger than I thought!"

Miranda sputtered. She turned to Olben, intending to give him a tongue lashing but the old woman returned, handing them two keys. She spoke in quick Russian, gesturing at the staircase, to which Miranda nodded silently.

As they ascended the steps, however, Miranda turned to give Olben a proper earful.

"I am his what?" She hissed at the two Elves, eyes glittering in fury.

"Sorry," Olben apologized, his tone and his face showing frankly just how much he was notsorry. "I had to say something. A woman travelling alone with a bunch of 'men', you know, it was not looking too good for you."

"I am overwhelmed by your concern."

Olben took one of the keys from Miranda. The fuming woman only gestured which room it was. The Elf opened the door and bowed low as he held it open.

"I thank you, fair lady, for your kind words!" The Elf said, making Miranda roll his eyes at him. Miranda frowned at the key in the door and the one she was still holding and her eyes widened in horror. "Wait a minute! Two rooms! The landlady expects me to-"

"That's what husbands and wives do, Miranda." Thranduil could not help put in, his voice pulled in a lazy drawl. "They share bedrooms."

"Argh!"

"Now, now, Miranda," Olben could not help but put in. "We must meld with our conditions when on a mission."

"Elves are such-"Miranda broke off, swearing under her breath.

"Tsk, such words from a lady!"

"You tend to pick up words when working in the American Army," she snapped. Jimmy on the other hand, watched the exchange while grinning from ear to ear. Miranda glared at him.

"You are sleeping on the floor." She snapped at him, entering the room with her head held high. Jimmy winked at them both.

"Wait for me, love bunny." Jimmy drawled, following her into the room.

"She is going to be alright, isn't she?" Thranduil asked.

"Jimmy teases but he is honorable enough. His jokes are only verbal and very restricted. He truly loves her." Olben added.

"Loves her?"

"Mm-hmm, he liked her a few years ago but he is now in love with her. Puppy love, as Jason would call it," Olben said, using their key for the neighboring room. "She'll be fine. Besides, she knows there are other things one can use to kill a man than a gun or a knife."

Each one of them took a quick wash from the bathrooms adjoined to each bedroom. It was already time for lunch, so the two Elves came down the steps only to find the old woman placing hot food on the table. She nodded at them before giving them a small smile, missing teeth obvious before retreating to her own room at ground floor. The two helped themselves while they waited for the other two of their team to come downstairs.

Miranda was in a foul mood when she came down. Olben grinned as he dipped bread into the gravy before eating.

"Wipe that grin off your face." she hissed at Olben before adding. "And here I thought Elves were supposed to have a sense of maturity for all the years they have lived."

"Oh, but being mature all the time is such a bore, my lady!"

"Stop calling me that."

"If you say so… Clarke."

"Olben," she warned.

"Now, now, children," Thranduil chided, "play nice with one another or both of you will be sent back to your rooms."

"Oh, but I am having far too much fun!" Olben said, suddenly laughing. "Pity my fellow Warriors and the Rangers are not here together, though." But Thranduil shook his head.

"Good thing too," Thranduil said. Catching Miranda's look of interest, he elaborated, "They are a menace when they are together."

"I can only imagine." Miranda threw Olben a dark look. "You must have had trouble keeping them under leash."

"Don't put too much fate in our King," Olben said, grinning. "He knows how to meddle in things which do not concern him." Thranduil, used to the Silvan ways of addressing their king in such frankness, was not affected. "Well now," Thranduil said, using the most reasonable voice he possessed. "As a king, everything in my realm concerned me greatly. I had to meddle in things."

Jimmy came stomping down the steps, face fixed in a silly grin. But lunch passed considerably well, the flavors of the dish sitting well on Thranduil's tongue, if a bit different.

Later they decided to peruse the town in two pairs, Jimmy and Olben were going together and Miranda was with Thranduil.

"Don't you dare," Miranda said, as Jimmy opened his mouth.

"I wasn't going to." Jimmy said. Miranda threw him a disbelieving look. "Honest, I wasn't." Jimmy protested. "I was just going to ask is when we are supposed to come back here." Miranda dug up her cellphone and looked.

"This is the first day, so we should not stay out after dark. We have time." Once they decided the time, they went on their different routes.

"I hope you did not mind Olben's teasing too much." Thranduil said, digging his hands into his pockets. "The Silvan Elves tend to be more light-hearted than others."

"I did not mind," Miranda said after a pause. Then she gave a rueful smile. "I think I would have done the same had it been one of my friends." She admitted. "Since we are on this topic, how did you meet Arianna?"

"Who?"

"Arodien," Miranda explained.

"Oh. It was the harvest festival." Thranduil said. "We were visiting one of the smaller settlements scattered throughout Greenwood the Great. At the time, the soil was still fertile, and the crops grew long and healthy. There was no danger lurking within our borders. Armes was the daughter of the chief's advisor."

"Go on," Miranda said, a grin forming on her face.

"It was nighttime and there were other Silvan Elves who were just as fair-headed as I. She mistook me for a friend she once knew and pushed me in a river."

"How did you take it?"

"I didn't how to take it actually. I had been talking to Fion at the time. When I resurfaced, Fion was bending over, howling in laughter when it happened and she was very embarrassed. Armes was young when I met her, thought past her majority."

"Considering the age difference, I am surprised you were even allowed to be wed together."

"There is no harm if both are past their majority, and the ones to be wedded are willing and their parents or guardians have given their blessing. My courtship was longer than year, nearly two years in fact." He caught Miranda's look as she opened her mouth to speak. "Father would have skinned me alive if I had married on impulse." Thranduil interrupted, shaking his head and laughing. "He never liked to rush into things. That was my trait and Legolas' to an extent. Father was always the kind of person who would not get rattled too easily, though his end in War of the Ring, in the Second Age, had been anything but."

Miranda glanced at the Elf, noting how quiet he became.

"What about your grandson?"

"Nimdir? He was… different. He was a restless fëa, from a very young age. He would embark on dangerous hunts, perform the wildest stunts. Father described him perfectly; he was like a storm; the more we tried to contain it, the wilder he became. Father took him in and 'tamed' him as Nimdir himself joked occasionally. He has his father's heart, deep down." Thranduil grinned. "He was the only one to have bested Legolas in archery competitions, much to both my and Father's satisfaction. "

"That must be a sight to see. I saw Legolas shooting. He takes great pride in it."

Thranduil smiled at her before his eyes lifted and looked over her shoulder, across the road.

"You might want to turn around and take a look." Thranduil said, voice dropping to a lower volume.

"What is it?" Miranda asked quietly, not turning her head. "Are we in trouble?"

"No," he replied. He grabbed Miranda's chin and moved her head, forcing her to look in the direction he was indicating.

"You have to look because that, Miranda," he said, "is no man."

Standing and waiting on a stop was what looked like a short, fat man dressed in thick linings and covers, head hidden by a thick cap he wore, a muffler hiding the lower part of his face. But if one looked beyond the layers of clothing, the man would slim down, the short height visible and the thick arms that could only come from labor as great as mining or from working in a smithy.

Thranduil was right. That was no Man. It was a Dwarf.

oOo

_Gates of Tirion,_

_Aman._

"_What news?_" Galadriel asked as soon as she saw Elrond approach.

_"Ill-fated news,_" Elrond said, his face and voice weary. _"Vairë would not let me seek her."_

_"The Valar are being of no help._" Celeborn muttered, rubbing his face with his hand.

_"What of Ingwë?_" Elrond questioned but Galadriel shook her head.

"_He would not consider it_." Galadriel said. _"He is far too comfortable where he is, and his people are as well."_

_"There are whispers in Tirion-"_ Elrond started.

"_And be thankful that they are only whispers at the moment._" Galadriel said, folding her arms.

_"Where is our daughter?_" Celeborn asked.

_"Safe, with our grandchildren; I have taken the liberty of escorting her to Lord Oropher. His household I trust completely to be safe."_

_"Do you really? And what would be the reason for that?"_ Galadriel's voice bore only curiosity at her son by marriage's words.

_"They have fought the darkness so long that they have developed resilience to it."_

_"That does not mean they will not need help."_ Celeborn replied.

_"Indeed,"_ Galadriel murmured. _"And we have to make sure help is coming to them. We have yet to speak to my father and my brothers. Perhaps they will be more willing to hear what we have to say."_

_"The twins have gone with Olórin to speak with King Olwë in Alqualondë."_

oOo

_Mirny,_

_Russia._

Some quick words between Thranduil and Miranda brought them to a conclusion that aside from generally following where the Dwarf was going, it was not the best of time to approach him just yet. After what happened in Ukraine, there was no telling whether these Dwarves were friends or foes. Also, the fact that they found the coordinates on a laptop they captured, it can mean they were working for the enemy.

They had loosely followed him, Thranduil's ears well hidden underneath his cap. The Dwarf was not doing much, aside from visiting grocery stores and then wandering about on the streets- until they turned around a sharp corner they had seen him go through and found him gone.

"Where did he go?" Miranda asked in surprise.

"We have been a little more than ten minutes behind." Thranduil said. "He could have gone anywhere."

Miranda gave a frustrated sigh. "Come on, let's head back. There is nothing to do here."

When they got back to the house at the appointed time, Jimmy and Olben found nothing. So they listened in interest to what they have to say. Jimmy then dived for the laptop they all shared.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for something that would attract Dwarves around this area." Jimmy murmured.

"Come on," Miranda said. "This place is far too sleepy and quiet and-"

"Diamond mine," Jimmy stopped her rant. "Mir diamond mine… it is here in Mirny. And it is abandoned."

Miranda got up from her perch and swept down to read over Jimmy's shoulder. Olben and Thranduil crowded the Man's other side.

"It can't be." Miranda said, breaking the silence.

"And yet it is." Jimmy replied.

"It is owned! Company would have security around it and even if they don't, it is far too dangerous."

"Oh, come on! A Dwarf in this place, what other reason could there be?"

"It is abandoned for a reason!" Miranda retorted.

"Enough," Thranduil said, interrupting them both. "The only way we would know where the Dwarves are is by them telling us. they were notorious for hiding their entrances and their pathways. We could spend lifetimes but it will bring us no answer. What I want to know is-" Thranduil turned and scrambled to Miranda's tablet and swept to get a photo Miranda showed him.

"Does he look familiar to you?" Thranduil asked, passing the tablet to Olben, who looked.

The looks of Demetri Romanov were not only Russian, but they distinctly resembled someone they knew… Bard.

oOo

_Alqualondë,_

_Aman._

The throne room of the King was beautiful, painted completely in pure white. The tiles were made of marble and the pillars were of white stone. Life-like statues stood in between the pillars on either side of the room, of Ellyn and Ellyth, their eyes seeming to watch every move of the people within the room. There a raised platform, approached by small, even steps. The throne itself was carved from marble softened by the sea blue cushion, the back of it designed to resemble the waves the Teleri so loved. Behind the throne were two large fountains, consisting of single walls, over which water trickled softly. It's soothing voice filled the air, the gentle splashes of the water marking every minute that passed, for other than the servants and the guards, there sat the King upon his throne, his wife absent at the time, and he faced three unlikely persons at such an unlikely time.

He held a staff in a smooth-skinned hand, a ring glistening on his index finger, the gem broken since the One Ring was destroyed. The Valar had forbidden the remaking of the Three Rings, so it no longer held any power. He was dressed in white, but his years in Aman treated him kindly. Where he once had white hair and beard, now he had light brown hair, his beard cropped neatly around his jawline. His eyes were sharp underneath his bushy eyebrows, his hair swept away from his face and neatly parted in the middle, the hair cut close below his ears. Although a Maia, he appeared to be of the Race of Men.

_"Your words worry me, Olórin,_" the King said at last, getting up from his throne and descending the steps. His brow was pulled into a concerned frown, silver and white robes swishing as he walked. Elrohir studied the Elf silently. He was comely in appearance, with a slim figure, a crown of silver and white gems resting upon his silver hair. He wore a necklace close to his neck, of a thick mithril band with one end in the shape of a horn and the other swollen into a ball. The King, completely adorned in white and silver and nothing else, seemed to shine in his splendor. _"I will not deny that they do."_

_"So you accept what I have said?_" The Istari asked.

_"I have never doubted your words._" Olwë fell silent.

_"Your brother does not agree with us."_ Elladan put in carefully. Olwë gave a bitter laugh.

_"My brother Elwë does not agree on many things."_ He glanced over at the twins. _"But you and I are kin, no matter how distant the blood relations may be."_ He came closer, studying the twins. Elrohir and Elladan had barely any trace of Sindarin blood in them, their faces finely chiseled, grey eyes bright and piercing, with a fire burning in them like the Noldorin lords of old. The twins were well-known for the sobriety and their silent observation. They spoke little but saw much, stayed distant from everyone else but the closest members of their families, and friends they trusted. Olwë raked his eyes over both the twins', causing them to stiffen under his scrutiny. Slowly the king continued to speak, _"No matter how much you may look Noldorin."_

_"Whatever we may look,_" Elrohir spoke, _"it is of no consequence. We are half-Elven who has chosen immortality. We belong to our people, and we are here to see them all in safety, no matter who they are."_

_"A just cause,"_ Olwë acknowledged. Elladan could not help but first glance at Olórin and then at the Elf standing behind the throne, silent but alert. Olwë sighed. _"It is a very just cause. I will help where I can."_

_"Sire,"_ the Elf behind the throne burst out, taking steps down the platform. He was dressed in silver and white, the same as the King, but he wore a chain over his shoulders, signifying his rank as an advisor. "_You cannot expect to actually believe them. The Noldorin-"_

"_We are at peace with the Noldorin,_" Olwë said sharply, his voice carrying through the throne room. It sounded like an old argument. Elrohir looked up at the ceiling in wonder, the entire room cut in such a way that when Olwë's voice had echoed, it sounded like a thunder just before the churning of a storm upon water. The Elf made a helpless gesture.

"_But, my lord,"_ he continued, his voice dropped into a level barely above a whisper. _"It cannot be true. What they have said… what it implied… It could be the end of the world!"_

_"If it is true,"_ he interrupted, lowering his eyes and tilting his head towards his trusted advisor, though not raising his eyes to see him fully. _"Then we must be prepared at all cost_." He then raised his eyes to meet Olórin's gaze, face pulled into seriousness. _"And if it is true_," he continued, his voice carrying throughout the throne room. "_Then our ships will be needed to escort our people out of Aman, otherwise we will burn here."_ Not breaking his glance from Olórin's, he raised his hand from a nearby guard, who hastened to unclasp his sword. He held it out and he took it, raising it up to eye level, blade resting in his palm horizontally. _"Long ago, I refused my ships to the House of Feanor, and I realized my mistake only too late. Today, I pledge my ships for preserving the safety of the Elves here in Aman. When the time comes, my ships will be ready to escort our people to safety."_

Olórin bowed his head, the twins following dutifully.

_"We thank you for your help, Olwë."_ Olórin said gravely. "_It will not go without praise. Excuse us, King, for we have need our rest before we return. there is much still to do."_

Olwë waved his hand, obviously preoccupied with what they had told him. Taking the dismissal, they returned to their rooms, the twins to theirs and Olórin to his.

_"That went better than I expected_." Elladan said. "_After what we faced with King Thingol, I was expecting this to go a lot worse."_

_"Olórin always said that Olwë was closer to wisdom._" Elrohir said, shrugging off his brocaded cloak with a relieved sigh. "_We are having better luck than father and our grandparents, I think it is safe to say."_ He paused. "_I did not know what would have happened if he would have refused like the rest are doing._" Elrohir admitted.

_"It is simple, is it not, brother?_" Elladan replied. _"Had he refused, blood would have spilt for the second time on Alqualondë."_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**List of canons:**

Mir Diamond Mine- It is a mine in Russia, with the largest diamond mine in Russia, abandoned due to the dangers it presented (sucking in helicopters, fuel freezing over, ice covering the open mine etc)

Mirny- A town where the diamond mine is here.

Alqualonde- A harbor present in Aman where the First Kinslaying took place.

Olwe- Brother of Elu Thingol and related to Celeborn and also related to Elrond and his children. He had refused Feanor which resulted to Kinslaying. He called Osse to bring them down but the Valar refused to do so.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_Valmar,_

_Aman._

The full moon shone brightly down on the city, the tops of the buildings nearly painted with the silver light. The streets were empty, and the houses were dark, and the courtyards were silent. There were a still few hours before the coming of dawn. Tulkas turned his eyes away from the scenery and glanced at the Vala sprawled over a couch.

_"You are in bad mood." _Tulkas said conversationally as he watched Oromë down another glass before refilling it.

_"I just need a drink." _The Forester muttered.

_"Hmm, and I think I know what for. Rumor has it you just went head to head with Manwë."_

_"He is being a fool."_

_"I do not think he would appreciate being called that."_

_"I do not care." _Oromë placed the full glass on the table with a loud thud and waved a finger towards Tulkas. _"Giving Thranduil a Ring of Power and keeping the information from him for which reason we gave him the Ring is nothing but foolishness and stupidity." _He leaned back with a sigh, resting the base of his head on top of his chair's back. The Champion remained silent on his spot by the window, studying the Forester seriously. _"Thranduil hates being left in the dark, and if something too serious happens he may even turn against us."_

_"Have you spoken of this to Manwë? Aside from the yelling and the shouting," _Tulkas added. Oromë scowled.

_"I would if he would stay put and actually listen."_

_"I wouldn't blame him, you know. You have the uncanny ability of going around his orders. Especially considering the time regarding those Elves we have in Arda for Ages." _Tulkas paused, brow furrowing slightly before adding, _"Did you know a strange thing? I have it on good authority that Lady Artanis, her husband Lord Celeborn and the half-Elf Lord Elrond know about the other Elves. Did you tell them?" _He asked, turning towards the Forester. Oromë's face was taut but devoid of any emotion.

_"Yes."_

It was an abrupt, short, rather concise answer. There was something Oromë was not telling him. He studied him until the silence stretched on and on before he started to grin.

Oh, it could not be true.

_"They don't know who they are, do they? They do not know precisely who these Elves are?"_Tulkas could not stop grinning now, especially when Oromë refused to reply. He got up from his window seat, giving a roar of laughter as he did so.

_"Oh this is simply wonderful! This is divine!" _Tulkas guffawed. Oromë grimaced and glanced at the Champion, still chuckling. He was a towering, broad-shouldered, heavily muscular Vala, who practically radiated strength. Of all of them, Tulkas cared less for the doings of the Free Peoples and did not take much part in the Valar's decision.

_"Tell me when there is fighting to be had." _He would always say in his rather deep voice and blunt manner. He was also an excellent confidant; keeping his and everyone else's secrets, making him a good person to go to.

_"I wouldn't be this amused." _Oromë warned.

_"Not amused! This is far too amusing! Since when are you so reluctant? Usually it is you who is breaking silence and bending rules to protect these Firstborn you are so fond of!"_

But Oromë did not reply. The Forester was frowning, tilting his head in a quizzical manner. His eyes held a faraway look, as if his attention was elsewhere. At that moment, he knew something was amiss.

_"Where is it?" _Tulkas asked.

_"One of the forests," _Oromë said. _"Something is very, very wrong."_

oOo

_Aman._

It was the smell that slowly woke him.

Smoky and heavy, it filled his nostrils, tugging at him and forcing him to leave behind the layers of sleep. Oropher dug deeply into his blankets before a sudden memory came back to him relating to that smoke. Doriath, Second Kinslaying, his wife burning in the house; the smell was coming from a large fire. Just as he made that deduction, he heard shouts of alarm and warning coming from the windows.

_"Nemireth!" _He nearly barked, turning away from his wife and reaching for his sword that he now always kept within reach. _"Awaken!"_

His wife woke quickly at the sound of urgency in his voice. She got her bearings, especially when he shoved her knife into her hands.

_"What is happening?" _She asked, quickly pulling on a dressing robe over her light shift.

_"I do not know." _He answered. _"Come! Quickly, so that I can see if Lady Celebrían and her family is alright."_

He opened the door of their quarters, finding the entire palace in disarray.

_"The outer trees are burning and the fires are spreading fast. There are Elves who are making the fires spread faster. We have pulled as many people as we could from the outer circles and we are having Ellyth and children retreat into the palace." _One of the guards said, keeping up to Oropher's fast pace. _"Assemble outside and I will come to lead the march." _Oropher responded. The guard nodded and left, others following his lead. He found Lady Celebrían standing with her daughters by marriage, all of them wearing dressing robes.

_"Lord Oropher," _Celebrían greeted him.

_"You will follow my wife to safety." _He answered in a matter of greeting. _"Open the doors to no one until I come myself to fetch you all." _Galion had come running down the steps as he spoke.

_"Galion, accompany the ladies and make sure they are safe. Take them to the west wing and stay with them until all is well."_

_"As you wish, my lord."_

But before Galion could take another step, he grabbed Galion, whirled him around and slammed his back against the wall. He heard his wife's startled gasp but he did not care.

_"If any of them suffer." _He hissed at the butler. _"I will have your head. Do you hear me?"_

Under normal circumstances, Oropher would not dream to say such a thing, but times were different. They did not know who was friend or foe, but so intimidation was his only solution.

_"My lord," _the butler looked back squarely meeting his gaze. _"I would die before the ladies come to harm." _Oropher stared at him before nodding and letting him go. _"Keep them safe."_

Once he saw the ladies on their way, he kept his hold on his sword as he entered the courtyard, where the soldiers were assembled. The palace now held many Ellyth and children, all of whom they needed to protect.

_"ARCHERS TO THE READY!"_

He looked up in relief at the sound of a familiar voice. Nimdir, easily recognizable because of his silver hair and his more Teleri features, stood tall on one of the talans, manned by other Elves standing beside him. They made neat rows, all of them wearing their quivers and carrying their bows. He could always trust his great-grandson to keep a good head on his shoulders.

_"This is your last warning." _Nimdir spoke, his voice echoing confidently through the air._"Move any further and we will be forced to defend ourselves. Move away and you will be spared and no harm will come to you."_

There was silence, and a loud blast vibrated in the air and one of the archers fell in agony, clutching his thigh.

_"TAKE AIM!" _Oropher watched as the bows went forward and the bowstrings wen back._"SHOOT TO WOUND, NOT KILL!"_

Arrows rained down upon the Elves coming to fight them. But they seemed strange, as if darkness possessed them from within.

_"SOLDIERS TO ME!" _Oropher roared, wielding his sword and catching one of the opposing Elves in his side.

It was very near to a bloodbath. In spite of their calls to injure but not kill, blood flowed freely and in the chaos and defense, not many knew what happened. It was a Kinslaying. Oropher was sure of it. Then the Elves that took the ground from behind the lines held strange forms of contraptions. Loud bangs filled the air and one by one Elves began to fall.

_"What new delivery is this?" _Oropher hissed. He spotted Nimdir descended, taking out his single long knife from his sheath and downing their enemies left and right. He fought his way to him. They heard a loud bang near them and he grabbed his kin, pushing him to the cover of the tree trunk. He gestured at him to climb, and Nimdir nodded before doing so. Oropher followed. Shouting to the archers to take cover, Oropher joined his great-grandson on a talan, entering the empty house through a window and taking cover by crouching beneath it.

_"What in Aman is that?" _Nimdir asked furiously, glancing over the cover before ducking quickly. Something whizzed pass and embedded into the wall in front of them. _"They use no arrows and the ones they wound show nothing!"_

_"I wouldn't say 'nothing'." _Oropher said grimly. _"There is something else at work here."_

_"We and the enemy are far too close to the palace. Should the lines break, which they will, who knows what will happen to our families." _Nimdir said. _"This is a full-out war!"_

He heard a bloodcurdling scream that made a chill run through his spine. Nimdir looked at him sharply.

_"Who was that?"_

_"The lines have broken." _Oropher said grimly.

_"Where is great- grandmother?"_

_"That was not Nemireth." _Oropher said. _"But it came from her direction. One of Elrond's household is in trouble. Stay here!"_

Oropher reached the window and hauled himself over it. He landed into the branches. He moved quickly, the branches of the trees aiding him and forming a path back to the palace. It was only a short distance away. He dropped to the forest ground and he heard another scream. He saw Elves, holding those strange contraptions in their hands reaching for the window from where he heard the scream.

He sprinted, reaching one of the Elves, grabbing his weapon and twisting it out of his grasp. He pointed it at one of the opposing Elves and pulled the hook that served as a trigger. The Elf fell with a strangled shriek, clutching his side. He kicked the one in his grasp, causing him to bend over. He raised the contraption and slammed it over his head. The Elf would likely suffer a concussion but it would keep him out from causing harm. He heard the third Elf fire but the shot went past his ear and he lunged for him, embedding his dagger into the Elf's shoulder before slamming his head against the wall. The Elf crumpled to the floor.

_"No please! Leave us be!"_

He grabbed the windowsill and hauled himself up. When he entered the room, he found his wife cradling a child, one of the nobles, to her chest. The youngling hid his face against her, violently trembling in fright. Her knife, for all the good it did her, was across the room. Galion lay unconscious on the floor, bleeding from a wound on his head.

The Elf whirled when he entered. He immediately reached for Nemireth and pressed his knife against her throat.

_"Come no further." _The Elf commanded. Oropher stopped.

_"What is it that you want?" _Oropher asked, glancing at Lady Celebrían. She, with her sons' wives was well, huddled together.

_"First blood," _the Elf spoke, pressing the knife deeper into the neck of Thranduil's mother._"We promised your son this."_

Oropher's heart thudded. He could not lose his wife. Not like this.

_"Why are you doing this?"_

_"We have to do this." _The Elf said, pressing his knife deeper. More blood spilled from his wife's neck. Nemireth whimpered in pain, fright keeping her from moving. The child was openly crying now clutched in her arms. Oropher was tensing. He could not sit by and watch.

_"AID! Aid has come at last! Our brethren have come to help!" _It was Nimdir's voice that broke the palpable silence and he knew he now had the upper hand. He leaped forward, taking advantage of the Elf's momentary distraction. He pulled the hand holding the dagger away from his wife's neck. The Elf had a strong hold on Nemireth's hair and he jerked, causing her to shriek in pain and try to wrestle out of his grasp. Oropher paid no heed, knowing it was better for her to feel the pain than get her killed. He used the Elf's weight to push him down, Nemireth being dragged with him. He still held the hand holding the dagger in his hand. Once on the floor, he placed his foot on the Elf's throat, blocking his airway. The Elf tried to struggle but he finally let go of the Elleth. He lashed out at Oropher, intending to claw his eyes but Thranduil reached for his own dagger and slammed the hilt against his temple. The Elf went limp beneath him.

He pulled back, breathing heavily.

_"Nemireth," _he muttered, reaching for his wife. He tilted her head up gently, studying the wound on her neck. It was a thin, but deep cut, but thankfully not deep enough to cut her main arteries. She was safe. He pulled her into an embrace, hands shaking now as he thought about what he nearly lost.

_"I am fine." _She said, voice muffled in his shirt. He too was sporting a few wounds but nothing too deep or too serious, and not impeding his movement too much. The child's wails broke through his haze and he saw the youngling was now in Celebrían's arms, shushing him and rocking him in her arms.

_"I have to go." _He said, pulling away and kneeling to see Galion. _"Bind the wound on his head so that it does not bleed out. But he should be fine. You will all stay here." _Oropher added.

_"We will." _One of Celebrían's daughters by marriage-Clauriel, the Sindar called her was now tending to his wife. He nodded, exhaustion coming after the battle rage and the throbbing pain from the wound on his thigh become prominent. He paid to no heed yet and went to the window, jumping out of it.

He found Nimdir standing, his knife sheathed, looking just as weary as he he was feeling.

_"How is everyone?" _Nimdir asked.

_"Well," _Oropher replied. _"How many dead?"_

_"We are still counting. We lost families to the fires."_

_"What of the fires?"_

_"We are working on extinguishing them."_

_"Then we should help."_

_"Nay, wait. There is someone who wishes to meet you." _Nimdir jerked his chin to the side in mild manner before marching off, saying, _and "I am going to go and help the others."_

Melian was tall, her curves well hidden by drapes of cloth of dull golden and brown, her black hair tucked into a low bun. She wielded no weapon, for she needed none. Her powers were her weapons and she was powerful when it came to them.

_"Lady Melian," _Oropher greeted the Maia, bowing his head as he did so. _"Welcome, you could not have picked a better time to arrive."_

_"I came just for that reason." _She replied. Her voice was rich, queenly and she spoke smoothly, as if accustomed for getting such respect and courtesy.

_"What of your husband?" _Oropher asked carefully. His ties with Elu Thingol had been strained in the recent times.

_"He is gathering his reinforcements and sending them here. No doubt you would like some aid in these times. He is also preparing healers to come here and help."_

He would have spoken more but one of the young archers came running.

_"Prince Nimdir asks for your presence. He says he has found something that might interest you."_

Oropher glanced at the lady but she only waved her hand. _"Go, I am well here."_

He found Nimdir standing by the tents hastily erected to treat the wounded.

_"One of the objects used against us." _Nimdir said, holding up the bloody item for Oropher to see. _"We have only just removed it from one of the soldiers."_

_"This is a strange device." _Nimdir murmured. The Elf held the object in the light of the stars. It was made of some metal lengthened but one end was pointed and the other flattened and its surface was smooth. _"This will hurt worse than an arrow, I should think. Something this small can embed deeper into the flesh, especially if one uses enough force, and cause more harm than an arrow."_

_"We won't know anything on our own." _Oropher said, kneeling beside his kin. _"This is something for a smith to see and inform us of its use."_

_"Mahtan," _Nimdir said, lowering the object and looking up at his great-grandsire. Oropher nodded.

_"Or Celebrimbor."_

_"But you know what this means, great-grandfather."_

_"Aye, I do. Our enemy is one step ahead, and we are badly outfitted for this war."_

They worked where they were needed; by the healers, with the woodworkers in extinguishing the fires. Many of the families were now homeless. But the shock of Kinslaying was fresh on everyone's minds. Melian too worked quietly, wherever she was needed. Until at last the sun rose, they finally took respite.

_"What is your kin doing?" _Melian murmured, regarding Nimdir was speaking to the captains.

_"He is planning a continuous watch, and also that no Elf is allowed to enter the city but without consent."_

_"I can help with that."_

_"I would not oblige you to-"_

_"I wish to. You will need it, I think. A time will come for us to stand together. For now, however," _the lady said, raising her arms in the air. _"You will need protection, and I will put it in place. The Girdle will serve you well, and it will not let harm come to you."_

_"You honor us." _Oropher said at length.

_"Nay, I do not." _She replied. _"I am simply looking after you and your people's wellbeing."_

She fell silent as she focused. Light appeared from the palms of her hands and disappeared, spreading into the air. It rose high, before lowering like a mantle placed upon a set of shoulders. Finally she lowered her arms. It took Oropher's tired mind to final grasp what just happened.

The Girdle was at place.

oOo

_Halls of Mandos,_

_Aman._

Vairë worked over her tapestry, hands working with practiced ease. Her eyes flitted towards the Noldo sitting beside her, who was bent to her work as well. They both worked in silence, Vairë having dismissed the other ladies in her care.

_"I was told that someone had come looking for me." _The Noldo noble spoke. She was pretty in an innocent way, her cheekbones high but the flesh on them soft and rosy. Her hair was arranged in a clip, several strands escaping it, but the untidy look became her. She had small hands, going with her small figure, but her fingers worked easily as she wove the small tapestry in front of her.

_"Who told you?" _The Weaver asked.

_"One of the weavers, my lady."_

_"Míriel, you know well than to listen to idle gossip."_

_"Yes, my lady."_

She paused her weaving, looking at the Noldo who resumed her task. Her loom was small, fitting easily on her lap, a portrait of a red-haired Elf coming into existence with every time she wove.

_"What do you think will happen soon, Míriel?"_

But Míriel only bowed her head.

_"I am merely a weaver of stories that have passed, my lady." _She said, returning to her work.

But Vairë was not.

Vairë looked down at the tapestry she was nearly done weaving, throat tightening at the sight of it. It was beautiful scenery of three Elves standing upon a hill, all of them wearing crowns, with three banners erected behind them. She knew one to be Olwë, and the other for Thranduil.

And the third she dared not name.

In another set of halls, where the dead lingered, of Men, Elves and Dwarves, Mandos walked in silence, not speaking to anyone. The Halls were unusually silent, for some would still be merry-making, in spite of not being housed into bodies. He heard the whispers as he walked, and knew the dead could feel the shift in the winds. A change was coming.

He rounded on a corner and stopped by a figure of an Elf sitting silently in the shadows. His legs were apart, elbows resting on his thighs and bent forward like an old man in contemplation, fingers that were once callused by drawing a sword and a hammer interlaced together.

"Have you come for me?" The Elf inquired, breaking the silence.

"It is not yet time." Mandos replied, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Another ripple passed through the ground, shaking it. Dust arose from the ceiling, floating down upon them and Fëanor raised his head, looking at the Lord of the Dead. His eyes were grey, but in them burned a flame so bright that made him famous for being fey.

"So it begins." Fëanor said quietly. "I assume you will have a need of me soon."

"Perhaps," Mandos answered. Then he repeated. "But there is time yet."

"Allow me to be reborn so that I can help."

"That is not your task." Mandos replied.

"Nor should it be of them. It was not their burden to carry."

"That is not for you to decide."

"I caused this."

"Nay," Mandos said. Surprise caused the Elf to look up at him. "It was bound to happen. Everyone contributes for better or for worse." Mandos looked at him for a long while before breaking the silence. "I would suggest that you make your peace with this. You will be needed again."

With that, he turned, intending to walk away.

"Please," the voice was far too quiet… but it seemed-seemed almost as if the Elf was pleading. "It was not their burden to carry."

"The Oath was taken by free will. You do not have any say in it."

And the Lord of the Dead was gone.

oOo

_Door of Night,_

_Aman._

He stood grimly on his ship, looking upon the Door of Night in the distance. The Door gleamed dully; the cracks were now larger, though still insignificant.

A ripple passed through the waters, and he watched in silence as a crack, larger this time, appeared from the upper right corner of the door and went diagonally, nearly reaching the middle of the door.

_"Would that this was not true," _Eärendil muttered. But it was true.

And his son was right.

oOo

_Heathrow Airport,_

_England._

_"We have to lose her." _Dorián murmured. _"If we keep going on our course, they will follow us all the way to Quebec City and we cannot afford for her to know where our current main base is."_

_"We will lose her here in the streets of London then." _Hanon replied, voice just as low. The woman seemed to be oblivious, reading the magazine intently in her lap.

When they landed, they did not need to stop and grab their luggage, their backpacks holding whatever they had. It soon became apparent the woman needed nothing either. Whatever doubts they had in mind that she was not following them, soon fled as they entered London. It was nighttime and it was a weekend. They could hear the catcalls behind them, and they knew she was still following.

"She is brave, I will hand her that." Hanon said.

But it soon became more apparent that she had no other prominent backup. She was the only familiar face wherever they went, and they saw her meet with no one else. This made them curious. So conversing amongst themselves quickly, they decided on a plan to confront her.

They took a quick turn, on Hanon's silent gesture into a long alley with a dead end. The woman's mistake was that she followed them there and before she realized what happened, Dorián and Fion came upon her, causing her to step back. It was a mistake, for both Elves now stood on either side, her back against a wall and Hanon standing facing her.

"No, don't." The woman said hastily, raising her hands. "Please! Do not hurt me."

"Who are you?" Hanon asked warily. "Why have you followed us?"

The woman lowered her hands, hesitantly looking at one Elf's face and then another.

"You are Elves." She said, fingers teasing the drawstrings of her sweater. He realized she was nervous, perhaps even afraid.

"What is it to you?"

She opened her mouth and closed it, seeming to struggle to find the words. "I-I thought that maybe… maybe you could tell me what I am… who I am."

The words caused them even more confusion and they looked at one another intently, passing silent messages in looks. Then Hanon studied the young woman. She had light golden skin, black hair that she had cut to her shoulders, clipped back from her face. She wore a light purple sweater and blue jeans. She was not armed, he could tell easily and a glance at her told him she probably had no knowledge of anything that had happened to them back in Ukraine. Also, her words intrigued him.

Finally Hanon gestured at them to let her go.

She was no threat.

oOo

_Central Park,_

_New York City,_

_New York._

"Boys, you had better be playing with Dawn as well." Cassie called. The twins looked up, both blond like their parents but freckled on their cheeks and nose.

"Aw, mom, she is so small!"

"TJ, Alex," she warned. "Don't make me ask again."

The twins pouted but finally allowed their little sister to play with them, handing her one of their action figures. Dawn promptly made it sit on her pony.

"Is she doing alright?" Riley asked, his hand resting on hers, stretching his legs on the picnic blanket.

"She is fine." Cassie replied. "She only asked after him a few times."

Both of them knew she had been asking after Lee a lot. Especially on her birthday; Lee was well-loved by the kids when he lavished them with toys and gifts, often causing Riley to tease him on spending his entire pay on kids. This time, though, there were no gifts, no toys, and no Lee.

"Riley, maybe we did not know him as well as we thought-"

"Look, I know my pal, alright?" Riley interrupted. He rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "I know him. Lee is not that kind of guy. I checked him when I first partnered up with him and he was clean. Lee… he is not like that."

"You are still worried about him." Cassie said, studying her husband's reaction.

"All I know if Lee would not simply take off. There is something else that is going on." Riley said, pulling his hand from his wife's and fiddling with a blade of grass, tearing it lengthwise. "Something is up. I don't think Lee was suspecting it."

"Wait," Cassie said. She placed her hands in her lap and leaned towards her husband. "You are not… planning to investigate this on your own, are you?"

Riley remained silent, his lips in a taut line.

"Riley," Cassie said, trying to find the right words. "This seems dangerous. You could get hurt or missing or-"

"I will be fine." Riley interrupted. "Don't worry about me."

"Then what about me?" She asked quietly. "What about the kids? Your children?"

"I will never let any harm come to you," Riley declared, looking at his wife with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "And the kids will be safe; I will make sure of it."

She still did not look convinced, so he pulled her close and hugged her, tucking her head under his chin.

oOo

_Mirny,_

_Russia._

It had been nearly three months.

Three months since he left his apartment, his job and his life as Lee Kraft behind in NYC. Thranduil wondered if he missed it and he found that he did. It was a comfortable life, though he knew his heart was more happy with his people than it was in NYC when he lived as a 'bachelor'. It was nearly November, and the snows would start soon in Russia. Winter was harsh and it was cold here. And if they did not leave soon, they will be trapped here, only able to use land transport.

He relaxed on his single bed, Olben's bed pushed against the wall just as his was. Dawn's birthday had passed, he thought leisurely, a wave of guilt erupting in his heart. He wondered what was happening back in NYC. Was he forgotten? How was Riley holding up? Did he get a new partner?

Riley had been a man who grew up in NYC, in the Bronx before getting a foster family. He was a rough, tough kind of kid and then he grew up in a rough, tough kind of man. A crude sense of humor, with rough style of talking, a preference to slang, Riley was very different than Thranduil but somehow they went along well. Thranduil, as an unspoken rule, usually kept away from Men, befriending less and keeping cordial relations more. Riley, on the other hand, was someone Thranduil could actually call a friend.

His thoughts turned to the mission at hand. He had spoken with the rest of his team. Miranda was sure Demetri did not know about his bloodline. He had never spoken of it. But the resemblance was uncanny.

"Bard would have been proud." Olben said, placing the tablet on the table, interrupting Thranduil's thoughts. "His descendent not only looks like him but from what Miranda has described him, I think he bears resemblance in more than just looks and may even extend to his personality."

"Bard saw a harsh time in Lake-town. But it opened his eyes and made him a better king, when the time came."

"If the Dwarves are here in Russia and a descendant of Bard is here, then there is high chance your Halls are somewhere here, Sire."

Thranduil raised his brows at Olben.

"High chance indeed," Thranduil murmured. "But in your theory, the Lonely Mountain might have become this underground mine and my Halls would have crumbled to dust by now."

"True," Olben conceded. "If we ever find it, that is. Still it is a thought. What should we do about this Demetri?"

"At the moment? Nothing. It is of no concern yet. I am more worried about this Dwarf business."

"Miranda said something about going out today once the stores are open to see if we can find something. She and Jimmy are still arguing about the diamond mine."

"I think if the Dwarves are interested in the diamond mine, they will use another, more secret, entrance." Thranduil said.

"Anyways, I am going to go and see if Miranda hasn't killed Jimmy yet."

"Go ahead. I will stay here and relax a bit more." He was enjoying the fact that his continuous headache was considerably less. When Olben left, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, staring at the black screen.

He did not need to carry Riley's number. He knew it by heart. He had taken out the number numerous times, wanting to call, wanting to make a connection but every time he stopped. He did not know why but he knew if he called, he simply would not know where to begin. How does one explain his entire life to a mortal? Especially a mortal who did not know about him in the first place? Thranduil snorted. It would be hilarious in its absurdity.

Coward, a part of him whispered. He pushed his cellphone back into his pocket.

They searched through the day but they found nothing. There was no trace of the Dwarf and it seemed he had nearly vanished into thin air. They met again at the house, discussing it with hot cocoa.

"We do not know when he is coming back." Thranduil pondered. "We might as well look for them ourselves."

"I have already asked around." Miranda said. "The people here say Dwarves come occasionally, buy or sell and disappear. No one knows where they go."

"And they are not interested?" Olben asked in disbelief.

"Ordinary people don't care as long as they are not disrupting the peace." Miranda said, shrugging.

"So we will have to find them." Thranduil said, getting up.

"How?" Jimmy asked.

"Simple; we follow the Dwarf's path." Thranduil shrugged on his coat. "Oh, and we should buy torches. Where Dwarves are involved, tunnels are bound to be present."

They bought torches and batteries from a store before retracing the footsteps Miranda and Thranduil took while following the Dwarf.

"We lost him here." Miranda said at a corner.

"No," Thranduil said, turning around the corner. "We lost him here."

Snow was present in a thin layer over the ground. It was bricked with grey colored bricks; the older houses were present in this part of the city. He noted the age of the houses, the ground being considerably new.

"I do not think we lost him." Thranduil said, marching into the small alley. He looked at the beautiful stonework on one of the walls.

"You know the Dwarves are clever." He said quietly. "We will never find their entrance unless they wish it. You said so yourself."

"Starlight and moonlight cannot enter this alley." Thranduil replied, looking up at the closely kept buildings. "They would need a more direct approach."

He studied the stonework. There was far too much detail, so much that the eyes had difficult time keeping track of all of them. Thranduil studied it carefully. He saw deer etched into the stone, some of them running, others present in small clusters. He saw Men with weapons, so tiny and yet so detailed. He could birds flying or arched with wings widespread.

"My lord," Olben's quiet voice broke his search and he looked at what he was pointed. He saw a hammer etched on top of an anvil.

"This is, for sure, Dwarven make." Thranduil said. His quick eyes ran over the stonework, wanting to find another piece. "Look," he pointed at the two trees in a corner, their branches spiraling outwards. "Those are our trees."

Olben had been tracing his fingers on the hammer, his hand accidently pressing too hard. The hammer sank into the stone. Buttons, Thranduil realized. He pressed the trees and they too sank into the stone. But nothing happened.

"We are missing something else." Olben said. Miranda and Jimmy were only watching them in fascination, realizing that the two Elves for who they were; Elves.

Thranduil studied the Men with weapons, and pressed them. They too sank into the stone.

"Look at the alignment." Thranduil said suddenly. "The trees are present to the left, the hammer upper right, the men in bottom right-"

"Similar to the position of Eryn Lasgalen, Lonely Mountain and Dale," Olben finished.

"The question is which alignment would work." Olben said.

Thranduil racked his mind for something. He pressed it according to their births, the trees; the hammer and then the men but it did not work. He decided to try it by pressing the hammer, the men and the trees, but there was no change. Then he remembered a Dwarven song, of how the works of Dwarves went to Men first and the Elves second. He pressed the hammer, the men and then the trees.

The ground moved, barely giving a rumble. It indicated it was well-used, well-maintained, and recently used, even. They saw the bricks shift, moving downwards before smoothly sliding back and out of sight, revealing a dark hole.

"We have to go inside." Thranduil said, looking down at the cavernous mouth yawning at them. It was utterly dark, making him thankful for buying the torches.

Jimmy looked up in horror. "He is joking, right?"

"Are you sure?" Miranda said. "This could be a trap. If there are a bunch of Dwarves on the other end, then we will be easily outnumbered. It will be like the case of Ukraine all over again."

But Thranduil looked up at the emblem of the anvil with two trees. He touched the trees, the stone rough underneath his fingertips.

"I just know that is the right thing to do." Thranduil said. "We have to go inside. I know we have to."

They stepped inside gingerly, switching on their torches as they did so. They had entered into a tunnel, with smooth walls and slightly rough ground. When the last of them entered, and that was Jimmy, they heard another rumble and to their horror the opening had shut, bricks sliding back into position.

"A time mechanism," Olben guessed. "Something to make sure the doors remain shut behind them. There should be something here to open it once again." It made sense, and they looked but found none. Here, the Dwarves made sure to hide that part, so that the intruder was not allowed to escape. They stood in silent, the precious flashlight wasting.

Miranda was the first to recover.

"We should keep moving." Miranda said.

The only way to go was forward.

oOo

_Underground,_

_Mirny,_

_Russia._

"You know, a million things could go wrong." Jimmy's whisper sounded far too loud in the tunnel they were following. Thranduil rolled his eyes. Jimmy might seem to be immovable but it was clear he was not truly built out for such missions. "The tunnel could collapse, the flashlight could fail, the floor could give-"

"Your own companions can cut out your tongue if you do not keep quiet." Miranda added to the list. Thranduil firmly squashed the laugh erupting from his chest. The pair never ceased to amuse him, it seemed.

"These tunnels are old," Olben said, running his hands on the walls. "But they are well-kept. The workmanship-"

"Is typical for a Dwarf," Thranduil finished, looking over his shoulder to smile at the fellow Warrior. The two shared a sad smile. "Dwarves would never shut up about their works." He said.

"Never," Olben replied. "I can't believe I actually miss them."

Miranda ruined the moment.

"When you two Elders are done reminiscing a past that the world has long forgotten, could we get a move on?"

_She has some spunk…_

Thranduil grinned and moved faster than before.

They did not know how long they were moving, and how deep they had gone into the belly of the Earth, but soon the tunnel looked more and more refined and well-made. Some parts, as Olben noted, were new.

"I have got a baaaaaad feeling of this." Jimmy muttered. But Thranduil only raised his torch higher, suddenly more alert.

"Hush," Thranduil said. "Listen."

"I do not hear anything." Miranda said.

"Neither do I,' Jimmy said.

But Olben glanced at him.

"I can hear it."

"Elven hearing is superior that ours." Miranda prodded. "Tell us what you hear."

It was slow tinkering in the distance. It was quiet, so subtle that even the Elves were not sure it was there. But the longer they listened the more they were sure that something waited beyond. The metal against rock made the familiar noise they often heard in the Lonely Mountain.

"We are not far." Thranduil said quietly. "Come. Let us continue."

They kept on walking, silent. Soon the tinkering became louder that even Miranda and Jimmy could hear it.

"Keep your eyes open and stay aware of your surroundings." Thranduil said.

"Oh come on!" Jimmy protested. "They are small and short! Of course we will notice them easi-"

They heard movement around them as they entered a large room. Stone sculpted to form waist-high walls were erected everywhere and they soon saw they were not alone.

They were surrounded from all sides, the Dwarves holding some sort of contraption that was a cross between a gun and a bow. All of them were pointing at them. Then one of the Dwarves trudged forward, keeping his weapon pointed at Thranduil's chest. Thranduil said nothing, raising his hands in silent peaceful position. The Dwarves were a little higher than his waist, but sturdy like a rock and he had no doubt that working on stone and metal have strengthened them. This was a not position to antagonize them.

The Dwarf then opened his mouth and uttered three words in heavily accented English.

"Do not move."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**List of Canons:**

Tulkas- One of Vala, also known as the Champion. He defeated Morgoth in the beginning of time, long before the start of Feanor and the Silmarils.

Miriel- She was once the wife of Finwe. She died after giving birth to Feanor. When Finwe was killed and he retreated to the Halls of Mandos, she was returned to life and she served Vaire into recording the deeds of the House of Finwe.

Dwarves were known to make cunning entrances in order to hide their dwellings. Often the doors would be triggered to show in starlight or in moonlight. Sometimes the Dwarven lords themselves would forget where the doors are. However, the **noncanon** part of it is that considering Mirny to be covered nearly in clouds and snow and the alley being nearly closed off, starlight and moonlight would be hard to come by, so they need some other way to mark the entrance. A single stone etching would be far too conspicuous, an artwork would not be that much.

Mahtan- He is a very famous Elven smith, taught by Aulë himself. His daughter was Nerdanel who married Fëanor. Fëanor also studied under him for a time.

Celebrimbor- Mahtan's great-grandson and Fëanor's grandson. He is the son of Curufin the Crafty, and is most famous for making the Rings of Power.

Elrond's sons- I refuse to write them as pranksters as they were mostly discussed to be quiet and grim, never forgetting what their mother had gone through at the hands of the orcs. They will, however, be more comfortable with their family then others.

Oropher- Father of Thranduil. He was killed in a hasty charge of light-armored Elves in the Last Battle of the First War of the Ring. I consider him as the perfect image of a king, calm, quiet and fitting, but Thranduil is more well-loved, more 'people's king', so to speak.

Mandos- Lord of the Dead. All the spirits pass to his Halls. The Elves are reborn in time, the Men pass to go Beyond the World, and the fate of the Dwarves is unknown.

Girdle of Melian- It was a girdle, a protective one cast around Menegroth to keep the intruders and outsiders at bay and keep its people safe from harm. The Girdle had fallen after the death of Melian's husband and in time, the Second Kinslaying occurred.

Melian- She is a Maia that Elu Thingol had fallen in love with and eventually wed. She is the mother of Luthien Tinúviel and thus kin to Elrond and Elros (Elrond's twin brother) and their descendants.

First blood- A concept started from the beginning of the War of the Silmarils. Melkor killed Fëanor's father, Finwë, starting a war that was pushed to the edge when Melkor stole the Silmarils from Fëanor.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Underground,_

_Mirny,_

_Russia._

Thranduil had no doubt they were deep in the belly of the Earth. It was considerably warmer, making all four of them regret wearing such thick linings, but at the moment nothing passed was more regretting than the sight of Dwarves threatening them.

The Dwarves were dressed in shades of grey, the weapons on their hands similar to guns but held a different type of design, as if they were their own invention. Húro awoke, raging, wanting to envelop them in a protective embrace and unleash fury on the Dwarves that had their guns trained on their chests. The constant headache grew and his head throbbed, causing him to grimace outwardly at the onslaught. But he held it down, pinning the desire to protect, trying hard to control the storm. The pain was steadily growing and he knew if the situation moves out of hand, delicate as it was, then he would have to surrender to Húro.

The one who spoke seemed to be the leader, he thought. The Dwarf was young, probably in his fifties or seventies at the most, and certainly a full-grown, guessing from the fact he was hear wielding a weapon and stopping strangers. His hair and beard was black, the hair pulled back and the beard braided. But his eyes were intelligent, meaning that he not some follower of command but he could make judgments on his own. That helped Thranduil decide his next course.

Thranduil slowly raised his hand and pulled off his cap. His fair hair had grown, barely brushing against his shoulders. He had already been in need of a haircut back in New York. The Dwarves raised their guns higher before the one who had spoken looked at him in disbelief, eyes widening. Thranduil's ears were visible to them.

"It cannot be." He muttered, gun lowering a little. Olben moved his hands slowly, causing the Dwarves to immediately point their guns at him, but the Warrior tugged on his fake ear tips and revealed his own pointed ears.

"You are Elves." The Dwarf said curiously.

"Just the two of us," Thranduil said, one raised hand gesturing at Olben and then at himself. "Those two are from the Race of Men."

"It is said that the Elves had left Arda Marred." The Dwarf said. Then he frowned and he pointed his gun once again at them. "Who do you serve?" He asked harshly. "Speak! Tell me who you serve."

"I serve no one." Thranduil said. "I was once a king here. My forest was known as Greenwood the Great, called Mirkwood by the Men when the evil penetrated it. My name is Thranduil son of Oropher. This is Olben, son of Istion, one of my many loyal Warriors and one of those whom I trust."

"Thranduil, you say?" The Dwarf said, refusing to lower his gun. "Do you know the black sable?"

"Black sable?" Thranduil asked, confused. "What is this black sable?" He glanced at his companions who looked just as confused as he was. The Dwarf did not reply but studied him and then the others. Finally the Dwarf lowered his gun.

"Your surprise seems genuine and you do not seem enemies." He said, studying all of them. "It is a dangerous world to go out, without being armed."

They said nothing, not wanting to put Húro into the spotlight. But Thranduil was relieved when the Dwarves lowered their weapons. His headache lessened and Húro was calm. Inwardly, he thought he needed to find a way to control the Ring, before it caused a chaos he would not be able to control. He was distracted from his thoughts, when the leader spoke again.

"Come," he commanded, turning. "You will follow us, and we will lead you to our city. But be warned. You have found us and now we will decide what to do with you."

"You are letting us come with you." Miranda asked, her voice rising incredulously. "Do you not fear that we may be enemies?"

The leader turned with a mirthless smile on his face.

"Trust me, my dear." He said. "You will not make it out alive if you are an enemy."

Thranduil looked at the alert Dwarves and did not doubt his words.

"You know my name and yet I do not know yours." Thranduil said, stopping the Dwarf in his tracks.

"Norí, son of Narí," The Dwarf said at last. "I assume you know enough of our customs to know we do not share our true names with anyone."

Thranduil did not reply and the Dwarf looked for none.

The Dwarves were not harsh or cruel, letting their captives put the pace. Thranduil and the others were not used to such descent, steep as it was, but curiously, the tunnel was well-ventilated and they found no lack of air, no matter how deep they were going. The tunnel grew steadily wider as they walked and it began to even out, making Thranduil guess that they were now closer to the city than ever.

Norí continued to lead them at the head, and one thing troubled Thranduil greatly.

"You have not bounded us." Thranduil called to the leader, whose steps did not falter. "I am wondering why not."

Norí slowed down till he walked side by side Thranduil. He glanced at him, accessing him.

"Something is different about you, King of old." Norí said, eyes narrowing as he continued to scrutinize him. "There is something… dangerous and concealed about you. You wield a power, young but wild. I have no doubt that in the end; it is we who will regret this meeting, if you are ever antagonized."

With that, the Dwarf hastened his pace and returned to his position in the front.

They did not know how long they walked, but it must have been a good few hours until even Thranduil and Olben were obliged to secretly think about their tiring legs. But then a room came into view, opening off the tunnel, which turned out to be a guardroom. There were guards in there and Norí spoke to them in their own tongue, strange to their ears but bringing many memories to the two Elves.

"We will rest here for a while." Norí announced. Thranduil noted the looks he and Olben were getting, full of curiosity, whispers at his wake.

Much to their surprise, the Dwarves offered them food. The bread was cold but it was fresh, and the meat was tender. Narí took in their looks with a dry smile.

"We may live here apart from the world but we are not savages. Eat, and drink. You will not come to harm unless you give us a reason to." Narí sat down, putting his gun across his knees. He rubbed his face and Thranduil noticed the Dwarf seemed tired. He wondered why; this place looked safe and secure. What did they have to fear here? "Rest," the Dwarf said quietly. "We will continue on in a few hours. The path from here is steep, for we will go deep into the Earth. Shed your outer linings." The Dwarf added. "It will become very warm the deeper we go."

They were provided blankets and spots in the guardhouse to rest. They briefly considered setting up a watch to see what the Dwarves intended to do with them but Thranduil reasoned that if they had a reason to kill them, they would have already done so. Decision was made, and all four of them rested.

Thranduil woke up when he felt a Dwarf shake his shoulder.

"Come," he spoke. His voice was heavily accented. "We must go."

The others were also being woken, Miranda being already awake and returning the blanket they had given her. Their outer coverings they left here in the guardhouse, with the Dwarves promising to have them returned.

They continued to walk in silence, their ears trained to pick the sounds of many hammers against stone. Soon the walls became more and more decorated with designs, not elegant like the Elves would make, but bold and rustic. Finally Norí turned his head towards them, eyes twinkling.

"I would suggest you all to keep breathing." Norí said. "This may come as a shock in the beginning." He heard one of the Dwarves remark something in their own tongue and ripple of low, dark laughter passed through their guides. Some of them cast amused looks at them but they said nothing.

There came at last an end to the tunnel, it had widened to a degree that all of them could have walked in a single file but a few Dwarves remained behind, guarding the rear. There was bright light at the end of the tunnel and all of them followed Norí, until they stepped out of the tunnel, on a ground that was smooth at their feet.

"Incredible," Thranduil breathed. The others were mute in awe.

The city stretched out beneath the platform they were standing on was thriving and completely alive. The streets were very wide, with Dwarves milling about. He could see the houses were made of stone and multi-storied, with windows and doors adorned with gold and silver. He saw lights, lights everywhere that nearly lit up the underground as if it were daylight. He looked up at the ceiling and saw that it had been also carved, smooth except for the uniform ridges. He remembered this also being the case in the Lonely Mountain, where Daín told him it was for providing more strength to the rock structure, though the ceiling here was also held up by strong, pillars which were square in shape, deep, straight lines running through its length and forming designs on the top and on the base.

The platform they were standing on was smooth, with a sort of a balcony on the end. The fence binding the balcony had gold-tipped leaf designs filling the gaps and round gold globes on top of the fence. It was followed by the staircase given off at one side, winding and leading towards the city.

Norí led them down the steps, towards the city and all of them looked about them in silent awe. The warmth allowed the Dwarves to dress in lighter clothing, somewhat old-fashioned and more traditional. Statues stood in intervals, some of Dwarven soldiers holding axes and others of Dwarven smiths holding their hammers. At the time, no one paid too much attention to them, but as they went deeper and deeper into the city, more and more Dwarves became aware of the four strangers. Soon whispers spread through the crowd and they noticed the two Elves whom they fixed with stares full of hungry curiosity.

_"I have never felt this exposed." _Thranduil remarked to Olben. The Elf grinned and nodded before gesturing with one hand around him.

_"They have created a likeness of the Lonely Mountain." _Olben murmured to his king, who only nodded. It was a likeness, but not too complete. The Lonely Mountain was one of a kind; the architecture and the design beyond anything he could have imagined or any Dwarf could ever dream up again. This was just a mere copy of its splendor, greatly diminished and yet so thriving.

They finally came to a slender bridge of stone, bounded on either side by fences the height of man and lit by lanterns. A large structure of a palace lay ahead, with many balconies and platforms seen on it and two large statues, one on each side of the palace doors. Norí led them over the bridge and Thranduil glanced through the empty part of the fence, only to see a vast crevice below with Dwarves working on suspended floors at the veins of gold and silver.

"Mir diamond mine, it seems was nothing but a chip of the wealth beneath it." Jimmy remarked. They could only say it was true. Had the Men continued to dig, they would have found these riches… and also these Dwarves. He wondered if weather problems and dangerous factors were the only thing that drove the Men away. Dwarves seemed to be far too comfortable here to consider them living here only recently, and the buildings were undoubtedly old.

Norí led them into the palace doors, which closed behind them. He noticed many, many Dwarven soldiers swarming the place. He frowned. Curious, it was, considering the fact that this place was supposed to be a safe haven for them. So it begged the question; what was it they feared?

Norí left them in the care of few soldiers, taking off to the throne room. While they waited, Thranduil observed his surroundings, taking in the details of the walls decorated in sceneries, the ceiling tiled with mosaic art forming a pattern of a sun with lights emitting from it. There was not much fabric, Thranduil noticed, and the doors were made of thin stone, barely two fingers thick, than wood. He glimpsed fabric here and there in the form of curtains or shelters, probably for the ladies, but that was all he could see. Fabric must be hard to come by so deep into the Earth, so most of it must be used for making their clothing, which he noticed to be of fine quality.

"You will appear before the king," Norí said. "He wishes to speak to you directly. I will lead you to King Narí."

It took him a moment to realize that Narí was his father and also a King, but Norí had already walked away, expecting them to follow.

The throne room was not as large as it was long, with thick pillars holding up the ceiling on either side. He saw statues erected in between each pillar and lanterns hung from the ceiling. The floor was the same as everywhere else they had walked; smooth under his boots but oddly colored. Then he looked up and saw crystals embedded into the stone, reflecting the light from the lanterns and giving the floor its odd color. At the end was a staircase leading up to a throne, upon which sat a Dwarf.

Narí was old, his belly swollen with age and his thick, unbraided beard snow white as was his hair. He wore a crown upon his head, with blue gems but he was not as extravagant with gems and gold and silver as he expected Dwarven Kings to be. Thranduil nearly frowned. How curious.

Father and son spoke briefly in their own tongue, before Norí bowed low and left the throne room. Thranduil stared into the brown eyes of the Dwarf seated above him. He was being regarded carefully, thoughtfully until at last the Dwarf spoke, "Welcome, Thranduil son of Oropher, once-King of Woodland Realm."

Thranduil tilted his head in reply, while his companions bowed. He refused to bow; he was the same station as this Dwarf king was. He could have sworn he saw the Dwarf's lips twitch half in amusement.

"I seem to be well known to you and your son." Thranduil said, keeping his act as a captive. He might as well cut to the chase; given that they were no guests. His eyes flitted around the room, catching the curious looks directed at him and wondered more. "And also with your people," he said in observation.

"Thranduil, the King of the Woodland Realm is well known to us in our lore," Narí answered. "Forgive our curiosity. When we heard that the Elves do not age, we never truly made the connection that you, too, will be alive after so many years have passed and generations upon generations have gone." There was an underlying message in his words, for no sooner did he speak them that the Dwarves had dispersed from the throne room. The Dwarf got up from his seat and came down the steps slowly.

"Since you are the Elven-King, I would like to show you some of the treasures we have here." Narí said. "Perhaps one or two of them might remind you of the past."

"I would be honored to accompany you."

"Give the others some refreshments." Narí told one of the Dwarves, who hastened to obey. Olben glanced at him in some worry but Thranduil gave a bare node at him. If he was in trouble, Húro was bound to help.

Narí led him into one of the corridors, the path winding left and right until they came to a single door which the Dwarf opened and gestured him to enter first. They were standing in a small hall, not as well-lit as other parts he had seen. His gaze first fell upon stonework of an anvil above which was a six-pointed star.

_He was standing in a tent, facing a banner of a six-pointed star on a midnight blue background. He turned his head when he heard the tent flap rustle. A serious-looking Man entered the tent, his eyes grim. "Morgoth is mine," he said. "Do not forget that."…_

His head throbbed as Narí led him to a corner where he saw three statues standing together, all of them looking straight ahead, expressionless. His statue was standing in the middle, wearing a long, full-sleeved and collared tunic reaching his knees and garbed in trousers and boots, a staff handled in one fist, his crown resting on his head. Brand stood beside him, dressed in winter finery, a thick, fur-lined cloak on his shoulders, a naked broadsword in his hand. Daín stood slightly apart, the handle of his axe held in both hands, the blades pointing to the ground.

"This is new." Thranduil said. There was age around the work, but it was obviously still new, not meant to last the ages.

"I am afraid it did not catch much of your likeness." Narí said with amusement set in his eyes beneath his thick, white eyebrows. Thranduil only smiled. It was true; his features on the stone were far too strong to belong to an Elf, and he seemed more, well, Dwarven.

Thranduil wandered about in the small hall, taking in the various artifacts about him that, while beautiful, did not interest him much. He had never been one to study history of different races, so he did not know the importance of some things that the Dwarves held dear.

He saw one thing that nearly made his heart stop. On a beautifully carved stand made out of alternating gold and silver wires swirling in circles lay a gem that was large, with light emitting from deep within and throwing scattered, colored light across the room. Thranduil stepped to it as if in a dream. Of all his years, he had not expected to see this particular gem ever again in his life.

"Is this-"

"The Arkenstone," Narí said, his voice swelling in pride. "A beauty, is it not?"

_And a curse…_

"We had to strive hard to keep it safe from thieves and loss. It is one of the treasures we dared not part with it."

"We buried it with Thorin Oakenshield."

Thranduil's voice was stiff. Realizing the Elf must have misunderstood, Narí hastened to speak.

"When the world changed, the grave was swung open, and the sword and the stone were visible to the world. We took them in both and buried his remains again. We realized that there was a chance that others with evil intentions would come to take these artifacts away and we could not let it happen."

"Orcrist is here?" Thranduil asked. Narí smiled and gestured at the case beside the Arkenstone. Sure enough, the sword lay on blue velvet with small white gems strewn across it under a glass-case. Its scabbard lay beside it.

"Elven smiths of Gondolin have overreached themselves indeed," Thranduil said. "Their swords never dull nor lose its shine."

"You met Thorin Oakenshield," The Dwarf king said, interrupting his thoughts. "Will you tell me what he was like?"

"I had met him briefly, whenever I did." Thranduil answered. "And much of my meetings were on opposite sides of a stone wall with weapons drawn and ready. But he must have been good at heart, though in the end the love of this stone did more harm than good. We parted reconciled. And for that I am happy, though I had hoped not to part without learning more of him in the probability we become friends."

When they returned, Olben, Miranda and Jimmy looked considerably fresh as they relaxed and waited for them to return.

"Dinner is ready." Narí said as he spotted a servant enter the throne room and glance and nod at him before leaving. "Let us eat."

The meat was tender, almost breaking off the bone. While he ate, he realized not much of Dwarves had changed when it came to their food and their traditions. Narí served each of them first, as it was a custom for the host to serve his guests first serving before letting each have as many as they wished. The bread was warm and soft. The Dwarves were well established here in this city, it seemed.

"Your rooms must be prepared by now." Narí said, glancing at a servant who nodded. "Go and take some rest. We will talk later when you are fresh. And perhaps, after that, you will see our city, yes?"

They were shown to their rooms, all of them individual, two rooms facing one another across the corridor. Thranduil noticed his room was well furnished, and in spite of the bed being made of stone, the mattress was comfortable and he could hardly feel the hardness. He heard a knock and he called for them to enter. Miranda came in, looking trouble.

"What is it?" he asked. "Is the room not to your liking?"

"It is fine." She said dismissively, sitting beside him on the bed. "I was just not expecting this kind of development."

"What kind?"

Then Miranda frowned and said.

"What I want to know is what this 'black sable' is."

oOo

_New York City,_

_New York._

Alice was bored.

She leaned back and placed her head on the top of car seat, listening to Jason ramble on her phone.

"I want to know what the situation is," Jason insisted on the other line.

"I already told you; I don't know." Alice repeated herself. She glanced at the rearview mirror. This conversation was not the best to have just outside her precinct but better to have her peace and quiet ruined here than at home where she intended to relax a bit.

"Don't you anything on Thranduil's case? The one about his car?"

"They have found out his documents were nothing but forged. The case is closed, most likely to save their own repute than anything else." Alice said. The boredom forced her to open the compartment by her side and sift through them.

"And what about the paw-print case?" She frowned at the receipt she found. When did she visit a Gucci store? Ah, for her friend's birthday… 'friend's'.

"Investigation is ongoing." She said.

"And what do you know about it?"

"I am telling you," she said, forcing her words out with exaggerated patience. She pushed the receipt back into the compartment and closed it. "I am not on the case. My work is to collect samples on the crime scene and take pictures and then the rest is up to the detectives."

Jason gave a heavy sigh.

"Fine," he said. "Take care, alright? The last thing I want is to lose another perfectly placed piece."

"Yes, sir."

They hung up and as soon as they did, Alice dialed another number.

"Did you miss me?" The Elf's drawl sounded in her ear.

"Still alive?" Alice asked. "Pity…"

"I had a bit of trouble as I left but nothing too much. They seem intent on trying to get my head after the case of the dead man and my name written in his blood."

"So how is Dave?"

"Well and back home. I was told by my comrades that he took his things with him, passport and such. Why he did it, I do not know. It might be fun to keep those Wood-Elves guessing."

"They will be guessing eventually when they realize that Dave is nowhere to be found. How long are we playing this game of tag hide and seek and touch and go?"

"I honestly do not know."

"Admit it, you and your brothers are afraid to show yourself."

"We are not afraid of anything."

Alice laughed and the Elf realized he was being mocked.

"I am not joking!"

"Right, right."

"So how are you? Are you still alive?"

"I hate working as a double agent." Alice nearly whined into the receiver. The Elf on the other end chuckled.

"Well it is one of your best traits."

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might be doing it the best just because I hate doing it in the first place?"

"That does not make sense."

"Nothing makes sense to you." She retorted.

"Careful, you are talking to a Prince after all."

"A rebellious one at that. Where are you?"

"LA," came the answer.

"Are you insane? Do you want to get killed? That is one of the stronger footholds of the enemy?"

"I am well aware."

"Did you talk to your brother?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I take immense joy in the thought of you getting scolded… again."

"How sadistic."

"I try."

The Elf laughed lightly and began telling her what had happened. In truth Alice wasn't too interested. She listened half out of boredom, her eyes glancing towards her car mirrors in habit. Out of the rearview mirror, she saw one of her colleagues head towards her car. Catching her gaze, he waved and walked over.

"Aw, sh-"Alice immediately cancelled the call, leaving the Elf on the other line in midsentence and pocketed her cellphone. She watched the man reach her and she plastered a smile on her face, rolling down the window as he came near.

"You still here?" He asked, bending at the waist and leaning against the roof of her car.

"Yeah, just making a few calls before driving." Alice replied, her voice just as cheerful as his.

"Oh really? Someone I should know about? Do I have a competition for winning your heart?"

"You don't want my heart, you want something else." Alice retorted. Kevin had a reputation for being a flirt and a pain in the neck among the female colleagues. He was not interested in long-term relationships.

"Aw, come on. It can't hurt."

"I think I will pass."

Kevin gave a chuckle. He shook his head and then leaned in a bit more. Alice had to inwardly fight to keep her hands on the steering wheel.

"So, about wanting something else… you might be right." She heard the drawl and she stiffened but he did something completely unexpected.

Kevin raised his hand and shone a torch at it. She frowned before her eyes widened. The torch held UV light and a tattoo of a sable was made on the back of his hand.

"Tell the King that you serve we want first blood." The Man said, his voice losing all mirth. "After all, what is a war when first blood is not spilled, yes?"

Alice swallowed but her mouth remained dry. She stared at him, knuckles going white from where she was gripping the steering wheel tight. Kevin studied her reaction before chuckling. He switched off the torch and straightened.

"I assume I will see you soon tomorrow." Kevin said before pausing and adding, "Or not."

With that, her colleague walked away, whistling as if nothing happened. She rolled up her window with shaking fingers before dialing a number.

"What happened?" The Elf asked sharply on the other line. "Why did you hang up?"

"Listen," her voice was shaking. She hated it. "Things have escalated. Your brother's name is in the list. They say they want first blood from him."

There was silence on the other end.

"I will speak to him immediately. I think I should head back home. And Alice, get out of there. No doubt they want you dead too."

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

When Thorontur and Arodien stepped out of the black jeep, they were met with the sight of Legolas hurrying down the steps to meet them.

"You are back!" Legolas said in relief. He had rolled back the sleeves of his red and black uniform, hair pulled away from his face by the wide bandanna he was wearing.

"Indeed we are." Thorontur agreed, taking the Queen's small suitcase from her in spite of her protests. "And we have been successful. Círdan sent word that it will be you who will have to receive the next shipment, Legolas."

"What has happened since we were gone?" Arodien asked as they went up the steps.

"Hanon and the others are in London, and they said they have been stalled but it is nothing to worry about."

"And what about your father and the others?" Arodien asked.

"That… might be a problem." Legolas said as they entered the manor. Arodien looked at her son sharply.

"Problem in what way?"

"Their trackers have stopped giving signals." Legolas informed them.

"What does that mean?" She demanded.

"We do not know. It is likely they went some place where we could not get the signals-"

"How long ago did this happen?" Thorontur asked.

"It has been nearly two days."

"So what is the plan?"

"Jason is making a few calls. One of the leaders there, Katarina-might be able to find out what is going on but not until their branch is settled into their new location." Legolas took in a deep breath. "Either way, we wait."

"Your father is well." Arodien said. "I can feel it." She fell silent then nodded. "We wait."

oOo

_Oropher's City,_

_Aman._

The dead were lined in rows, shrouded in white sheets. Some of them fell by the sword and others were lost to the fires that took the houses. Many of them were complete families, lost to the Kinslaying.

Oropher gripped the hilt of his sword tightly in his hand. Ever since the Girdle fell in place, there was a shift in the air. There was a change coming, and it was almost palpable.

Many of his people were in shock, still others were in grief. And all of them were angry. He had a hard time reining in their emotions, not wanting them to run out and kill the first Elf they see, which would have triggered another Kinslaying. At least in the Silmarillion, the sons of Fëanor had a reason for their killing. But here it seemed so senseless, so confusing. But there were Elves to be buried, and once that was done, Oropher's heavy steps led him back to the palace.

Oropher opened the door to their bedroom and his door stopped short, slamming into something heavy and hard. Confused, he instinctively looked down and saw his great-grandson fast asleep on the bare floor, his knife and bow and quiver within reach. At last hewas asleep. Nimdir awoke; hand reaching for his blade, but Oropher placed his foot on his wrist, stopping him.

_"Easy," _he commanded. Nimdir blinked and looked up, eyes clearing from sleep. Oropher removed his foot.

_"I apologize." _The prince muttered, sitting up. _"The Kinslaying has just put me into a new awareness."_

_"Indeed, it has. That is often the case. Why were you sleeping on the floor where the door was bound to hit you?"_

_"That is precisely why I was sleeping there." _Nimdir said, looking away from his sire.

_"Get some rest." _Oropher commanded before adding, _"In your room."_

_"But-"_

_"Nimdir," _Oropher fixed his great-grandson with a withering look that even Thranduil would become meek to. It worked.

_"As my lord wishes."_

_"Indeed," _Oropher's eyes softened. _"Go. Sleep. You need it."_

No sooner did the youngest member of the House of Oropher left did Nemireth appear from the bathing chamber, wearing a light blue dress.

_"He has been sleeping there for nearly three hours." _Nemireth murmured. _"He refuses to leave my side."_

_"I wouldn't blame him." _Oropher answered. _"I would do the same."_

His wife gave him a shrewd look.

_"I am fine." _She said, stressing on every word. Oropher said nothing but continued to stare at her face, memorizing every detail, and remembering he was close to losing her the second time.

Later he met Oromë waiting at the entrance of the palace and conversing with Elu Thingol on something that stopped just as he drew near. They shared news and spoke on trivial matters until Oromë spoke once again.

_"You are weary." _Oromë observed the Sinda. _"Go and take some rest. You are in need of it."_

_"Rest?" _Oropher asked. _"How can I rest? My people are grieving and many of them are under earth." _Oropher shook his head. _"I cannot rest." _With that Oropher turned away in silence. Oromë watched him go before becoming aware of another presence beside him.

_"I have heard of a Ring of Power." _Elu Thingol spoke quietly so that his words were for only Oromë. Oromë's lips drew in a thin line. _"And I have heard it was given to Thranduil Oropherion."_

_"And how does that concern you?"_

_"I am curious for the reason behind it."_

_"Nay, you are not! You wonder why it was not you who received the Ring or why no one else was given and why your counsel was not sought. If you have nothing good to say_," Oromë said sharply. _"Then be silent! I am done listening to words of contempt of years long past. It is time, Elu Thingol, to put your grudges past you ere they seize you in a chokehold you cannot escape."_

The High King of Sindar held is tongue, eyes still glittering in emotion.

oOo

_Oropher's City,_

_Aman._

_"King Manwë,"_ Oropher greeted him, bowing low. _"I had not expected your visit."_

_"I was not expecting to visit myself."_ Manwë said. Varda stood beside him, quiet and serene, observing much and speaking less. _"But where something as grievous as Kinslaying is concerned, of course I would have come."_ The Vala gripped the Elf's shoulder. _"How are you and your people?"_

_"As can be expected under these circumstances," _Oropher answered. _"I have caught wind that the Valar were aware of the worsening situation. It begs to question why they did not do anything about it."_ Oromë gave a snort but said nothing, leaving it to Manwë to deal with the mess.

_"At the time, we did not expect it to aggravate so quickly." _Manwë said, throwing a look at Oromë.

"I warned him," Oromë said, addressing Oropher. "But he did not listen."

Oropher noticed with mild amusement the look of irritation passing Manwë's features. But Manwë distracted him by asking him to recount the tales of what had happened, which Oropher did.

_"What is this coming to?"_ Oropher murmured in the end, rubbing a hand over his face. _"I had expected many things in my life but I never thought Elves would turn towards darkness without a cause."_

_"Do not think the Elves are entirely at fault for this. Melkor has great influence on all the Free Peoples, for him being one of us, the Ainur. He knows how to creep such thoughts into their hearts, and he can do it from a distance. His arm is long and I know it well."_

_"He was your brother."_ Oropher said quietly.

_"He still is_." Manwë answered. The Vala sighed. "_The Race of Men would call it poetic. Good and evil, led by two great kings, brothers to one another."_

_"You speak of Morgoth," _Oropher said. _"You believe that he is rising."_

_"I believe that his hand has grown stronger here. Perhaps much stronger than our own,"_Manwë said. _"Your son across the Sea will have a hard time, given the fact that he has no support yet. We will send him aid soon, though not yet."_

_"I wouldn't be too worried about him," _Oropher said, glancing at Oromë's hand signaling him. He could have rolled his eyes if it had been a part of his personality. The Vala was always intent on undermining his King! But then, Oropher, too, could not resist.

_"Is there no way to contain this?" _Elu Thingol asked. _"History always repeats itself. Perhaps if we place a closer look on the Noldorin-"_

"_You will hold your tongue_." Manwë said quietly. He did not need to raise his voice. Manwë had never raised his voice. The sheer power behind his words and the silent body language was more than enough to cow anyone in front of him to submission, "_Lest I believe you no longer able to lead your people, when the time comes."_

The words, spoken in a low tone, held more strength than Oromë's harsh, passionate scolding. Elu Thingol closed his mouth and did not speak after. Varda turned her attention to Oropher.

_"You are not worried for your son?"_ Varda asked, looking at him keenly.

_"Thranduil is strong as he is a bit reckless. And he is stubborn. He knows how to take care of himself… especially if he has to retaliate against those who do not tell him everything about the danger he is facing. I am not too worried."_

They did not miss the harsh obviousness of his words and Oropher's pointed look.

Manwë finally sighed.

_"Oromë_," he said. "_I release you of your promise. You have my leave to tell Thranduil of what has occurred here."_

_"Finally," _Oromë commented.

Later in the evening, a messenger came running to him that there were Elves waiting to be acknowledged by him. Wondering who they were, Oropher accompanied the messenger back to where the Girdle had been in place.

The pair that had arrived was dressed in Noldorin fashion. One Elf was tall, burly with a ruddy complexion and light, reddish stubble on his chin. His hair fell smoothly to his shoulders, of a rich dark red color. He was dressed in light, red clothing, the tunic slit in the front and back and at the sides to give him free movement. The Elf beside him was pale-skinned, with black, wavy hair bound back with a circlet and a fishtail between his shoulders. Slightly slender than his companion and a head shorter, there was no doubt that he too was a smith because of his muscled arms and upper torso.

"_Lords Mahtan and Celebrimbor,"_ Oropher greeted them, raising a single brow as he neared them. _"I had not expected your visits. I had thought I would be coming to you."_

_"We were called here by the Valar." _Mahtan's voice was deep, rumbling in his chest, almost Mannish in fact except for a little lilt in it. _"I expect you already have much in your hands."_

_"Indeed,"_ Oropher conceded, already a bit relieved that a part of his duties were now lifted off his shoulders.

_"The House of Finwë sends its condolences for such a heinous crime,"_ Celebrimbor's voice was much lighter than his great-grandsire's. "_The sorrow for this event cannot be put in words."_

_"Nay, it cannot." _Oropher's heart, already heavy before, became much heavier. Now that the shock had faded, and with it the battle-rage that came with a battle, the reality of it was ground-breaking. It placed everything into a stark perspective.

"_Come."_ Oropher commanded, straightening, spreading his hand towards the path leading up to the palace in welcome. "_No doubt you are weary and in need of some refreshments. We will speak of your errand later."_

_"We are tired from our journey but we will look at this contraption first. Time is passing by and this enemy is one step, if not several steps, ahead."_

_"Very well then."_

Manwë and Elu Thingol accompanied Celebrimbor and Mahtan to the council room. Nimdir was nowhere to be found, gone to train with the young archers. Oromë muscled in, refusing to take no for an answer until he entered the room with them.

_"This is a strange device indeed_." Mahtan murmured, holding the item high in the light. But Celebrimbor seemed grim.

_"Not so strange, great-grandfather."_ The Noldo said, taking it from his hand. He gestured at the contraption lying on the table. "_I have seen this before."_

_"Before?" _Mahtan asked sharply. "_How?"_

_"Some Elves had come to me, many years ago, bringing me a device similar to this one. They wanted me to try and imitate it. At the time I was interested,"_ Celebrimbor admitted. _"But when I found out what it was for, I refused and told them I would not make it. I did not think of it again and I forgot about them, until now."_

_"This means they have been planning in secret for a long while, possibly years."_ Oropher murmured.

_"And who would listen to me now?"_ Oromë remarked dryly, earning himself another look from Manwë which he ignored.

"I_t does not matter anymore_." Mahtan commented lightly. "_For now, we will study how this works and we will see if we can make more of them."_

_"Wait, more of them," _Elu Thingol interrupted. "_You wish to make more of them?"_

Mahtan did not look at him but fixed his gaze on Manwë.

_"I do hope,"_ he said slowly and clearly. "_You all realize that this is not a cycle any of you can stop. Violence breeds violence and if not directed properly, it will lead to horrors of war that we cannot comprehend. This Kinslaying will result in another and soon unless you give them a purpose that you are working on it."_

_"He is right,"_ Manwë said quietly. "_But that does not mean it cannot be delayed. Do what you must."_ He told the smith. "_And we, the Valar, must do what we must."_

_"We will need some hours to ourselves while working on this."_ Celebrimbor put in, when no one moved and they all stood still in silence. When the others left, only Mahtan and Celebrimbor lingered in the room, studying the contraption and the items with it, before deciding to take it apart piece by piece.

_"Interesting build,"_ Mahtan observed. "_Notice the fineness of every piece. This is delicate but fine work. Too fine, in fact, for a hand."_

_"Machinery, it seems, was used to bring about this invention."_ Celebrimbor agreed. "_The Race of Men has overreached itself."_

A silence fell between them as they studied and made notes.

_"I have heard of a Ring of Power in Arda-"_

_"Has everyone heard of it?"_ Celebrimbor asked in dismay. "_It was not meant to be so well-known!"_

_"You could not have hoped to hide it_." Mahtan remarked. "_Rumors spread and tongues wag, my son. Is a Sinda truly capable of wielding such a power?"_

Celebrimbor's brow furrowed, his gaze trained on the parchment he was scribbling on.

_"I think he is capable_." He said at length. _"It is the same feeling I had gotten when I first gave the three Rings of Powers to the Elves. But this Ring will answer to no one else. I made sure of it."_

Mahtan only hummed in answer. Whatever he wished to say, he did not say it, returning his attention to the task at hand.

_"Guns, they call it. And bullets, they call these. These are terrible weapons of war._" Mahtan shook his head_. "It would have been better if another took a look at this."_ Mahtan said. _"Your father and grandfather were much better when it came to understanding and making concepts for inventions."_

_"Still, they are not here and we are."_ Celebrimbor responded. _"We might as well work with what we have."_

oOo

_Dwarven City,_

_Russia._

When they met again with Narí, Thranduil brought up the questions they had in mind.

"When we came across your son, he asked something related to the black sable." Thranduil said. "What is this black sable?"

"I am surprised you do not know." The old Dwarf said. "I had expected you to know more than I, considering you lived on the surface but I will tell you what little I know, but it comes with our story."

"It started five months ago," Narí began. "I would occasionally send my people up to the surface to bring us news from time to time. One of them came to me and told me that there were Men after him, who followed him everywhere. He had become worried for he had never seen them before and had never laid his eyes on them. he lost them eventually and came straight back. At the time, I paid little heed to it but when he left, it was all I could think of. When two weeks had passed by, another scout came to me, telling me that strange folk had come to Mirny, asking for Dwarves. They found him and questioned him and then they gave him this." He gestured at one of the Dwarves who were standing unnoticed in a corner. He came forward and handing him a pouch. Narí drew a ribbon, thick as four fingers put together, a black sable embroidered on the white ribbon. "With it had come a pouch of gold and gems, a gesture of friendship they called it. In return they asked me for allegiance, telling me that no doubt I would like to avenge the Dwarves who had been killed unjustly over the years and us living in hiding as if we were outcasts. I felt uneasy when I heard it, for it seems they had something sinister in mind that they were not telling me. So I returned the pouch with thanks, telling them I had gold and gems aplenty, and in better quality. The black sable I kept, for it had troubled me and I do not know why. Now it is you who have come, looking for me and I am wondering; what change is coming to this world?" The old Dwarf sighed and pushed the ribbon back into the pouch. "I placed a stronger guard about the city since and pulled my Dwarves away from the surface. I will not let them come to harm and I am not eager to find out what these Men had planned for us now that I refused them my help."

"Were there Elves with them?" Olben asked the question all four of them were thinking.

"Elves? No!" Narí shook his head. "That is why you're coming seemed so strange to us. To our knowledge, all Elves had left Arda. To see you again means something great is indeed happening."

"You have given us much to think over, King." Miranda said quietly.

"Now that you know our story, tell us yours." Narí said. In spite of his age, his eyes were shrewd as they rested on each of them individually. They forced themselves not to glance at one another, not wanting to give away the fact that they did not wish to speak of everything that had passed. Miranda was the one who started, telling the Dwarf about the Fellowship, meeting the Elves, and about Thranduil coming to Grey Havens and a bit about the Ukraine team. She smoothed over Húro, not wanting such a detail be given to the Dwarf.

For all the hospitality and the comfort they were provided, something did not sit well with them.

Narí hummed in reply, studying each of them silently before nodding.

"It seems there are great events at work here. We have learned much from one another, I think."

"Tell me how did you come here?" Thranduil gestured around him. "How did you end up in here? If I am correct, this land was once a place of Lonely Mountain as well as Dale, Lake-town and Greenwood."

"The land shifted," The Dwarf king replied. "It is said that there was a great earthquake and the mountain sank into the earth. Our ancestors barely escaped with their lives, and the mountain flattened itself on the surface. The Dwarves became few in number and we dwelt on the surface for a while. After the Elves left, the Race of Men slowly forgot everything related to you and forgot that we were once friends of Men. They ridiculed us, throughout history, giving us cruel names. My people were tortured and used a playthings in circuses or made fools of in events. It became clear that we needed a place for our own. We came back to where our ancestors were and began to dig deep into the Earth. Back then, our forefathers had forgotten how to wield a hammer but it is said that this work is in our blood. We worked on stone, until we were able to make a few houses, and from there we made a city. That was a few thousands of years ago. We have been here ever since."

"You are not a descendent of Thorin III Stonehelm?" Thranduil asked, but he shook his head.

"His line died out soon. And if there are any descendants, than I do not know."

"Are there other Dwarven cities?" Miranda asked.

"If there are, I do not know. My work is here, to make sure that my people are safe and my city is unharmed."

"This Mir diamond mine-"

"Did we force the Men to abandon it?" The King interrupted. "No, we did not. Men are fools. They do not know how to work with stone, so they stamp about, impatient for the wealth but careless on how to get it. It takes years to master the hammer and years still remove the stone bit by bit. One chip and no more and that is the way to go."

To their silent relief, the conversation drifted to lighter topics but Thranduil's mind dwelled over this black sable.

When it came the time to retire, it was Olben who was severely troubled.

"Do you feel like you are a prisoner here?" Olben asked. When Thranduil turned to look at him, the Elf added, "I feel like a prisoner here."

That night the four of them stayed awake.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Concept of Durin:**

On Durin... yes, I am well aware of the prophecy that he will return seven times and each time he will be king. After Durin's death, six Dwarves were name Durin after him and all of them were kings. The seventh falls before the start of this story since my head hurts already with so many plot lines, especially when they are so tightly entwined with my modern fiction. And I killed off his line. Yep, that happened. I did it because there was nothing anywhere on his line surviving and also because I couldn't deal with that kind of pain in the neck. I already have too many characters as it is. -.- XD

**Please keep reviewing? **


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_Tirion,_

_Aman._

The sun was out, the light streaming on to the palace. The Ellyn had resorted to walking through the halls armed, their swords hanging from their belts. Not that it would do them any good, Elrond thought darkly. Word had spread fast, and they soon heard of contraptions called guns used in the Kinslaying of the Silvan Elves. They wanted blood, and with it, the news of Thranduil's Ring had also spread.

In spite of the tension in the air and the strained vigilance of the Ellyn as they watched their wives and children roam about, there was still some semblance to peace. He walked through the arched corridor, open air coming from either side before turning right to a destination he had in mind. He stepped off the pebbled pathway, walking straight across the grass, unmindful to the trimmed grass-blades before reaching a small door with the symbol of Fëanor's household painted on it. The walls were high, made of stone and the door was ajar.

This garden was considered a beauty beyond compare. There were no plants growing in this particular garden and it was very small in size, almost the width of a small master bedroom. Stone benches were placed in various points, intricately curved and life-like statues sat upon them. He saw a young woman sitting in a corner working on a hand loom as she wove a tapestry. Another woman sat on a bench, working on a small statue in her hands, a light table placed before her with tools curved out of the table. Identical twins played by the pond, one of them holding a stone frog in his hand and the other laughing. A young man sat upon a branch of a white stone tree, a harp in his hand. A man stood in a corner, proud in his stance but smiling down at his young son who was tugging on his arm. Two men sat together face to face, looking as if they were absorbed in some conversation.

"_Lord Fëanor and his family,_" he started at the voice and he turned. Fingon stood there, hands clasped behind his back. He was dressed in dark yellow garments with black embroidery, a sad smile on his lips. A sword hung from his belt, just as one hung from Elrond's. "_You come into this garden often."_

Elrond turned back his attention back to Maedhros chatting with his grandfather. "_So have you_."

"_Old memory's sake,"_ the Elf answered, standing beside him_. "Fëanor had placed much love in his work, especially this one. Lady Nerdanel carved out the statues from marble and he and his sons worked on the garden itself."_

The 'plants' were a wonder to behold. Made from vines of gold, the plants were bent, molded, and hammered into shape, created the likeness of stalks and leaves, the flowers realistically and painstakingly designed. Gems were placed in the middle of each flower and all of the flowers were lovingly entwined onto their stalks.

"_I remember when they were in the middle of this project._" Fingon said. _"Maglor had decided his younger brothers could do the work themselves and sat upon a nearby tree and worked on his music. That was what inspired the lady to curve that,_" he gestured at the statue of Maglor on top of a tree branch. He chuckled. "_Maglor worked with metal but had no great love for it like his brothers. It was Caranthir, though, who had the talent of stone just like his mother. He made the benches."_

It was useless conversation, and they both knew it. It was the one they had before as well, when Elrond had first stumbled into the garden and found Fingon sitting beneath the tree of Maglor, lost in thought.

"_Do you miss him?"_ Elrond asked. Another pointless question.

"_Aye, I do_." Fingon said after a pause_. "He was a dear friend."_

"_What was Maedhros like, before it all happened?_" This Elrond never asked. He remembered a tall Elf, brooding, his pale grey eyes lit in a fire that cannot be quenched. He remembered his faded scars on his cheeks and one side of his neck, his right shoulder slightly raised and his right arm a stump. He remembered his unruly, tumbling locks of dark red hair, tamed into a leather band, his voice rough and a bit guttural as he spoke. He never truly understood his mother-name "Maitimo" or "Well-made", for Maedhros was anything but after his life in Angband. The orcs had mutilated him in mockery of his name.

"_In the beginning? Boring,_" Fingon answered, crossing his arms. "_He spent his time in the libraries or in the university, and he was proper noble at court, never doing anything out of protocol. He changed after he met me; just I did when I met him. Be careful who you make friends with,"_ Fingon winked at him, making him chuckle. "_But he was a good friend to have. He changed after Angband. He became bitter… harsh… he never forgave what happened to him but deep down, he was the same Maitimo I knew._" He smiled. "_Maitimo loved lore and books, he loved to paint, did you know?"_

"_I know,_" Elrond said quietly_. "He made a 'painting' from burgundy ink, once, of my mother and gave it to Elros. My brother kept it as long as he could, up until it death before it caught flame from an accidental fall of a lantern."_

"_I did not know he practiced his left hand into painting._" Fingon said, shaking his head. _"He was the quiet sort, but his eyes-"_

"_Never missed much,_" Elrond chorused with Fingon, startling the latter Elf. The pair shared a smile.

"_A pity you did not know him as I did, because you would have found him just as dear as Maglor."_

"_I think I would have_." Elrond mused, looking at the statue of Maedhros, so alive in stone.

oOo

_Dwarven City,_

_Russia._

"Looks like our fears were unfounded." Jimmy said the next day.

"Do not be too sure." Miranda said. "We have yet to make it back to the surface."

"We can ask the Dwarves for help in constructing our stronghold when the time comes," Olben said to Thranduil.

"I will see if I can mention it. At the moment, I am more concerned on convincing them to let us leave the city. No doubt they would be worried about secrecy."

When they sought audience with Narí, the Dwarf-king was regarding them thoughtfully.

"What will I do with you?" Narí asked at last. "You have found us, but we must keep this city a secret. If you had been any other outsider, I would simply keep you imprisoned here. But, there is a power about you, Elf-king. Something about you is different, so my son tells me." He tilted his head, the wrinkles of his face becoming more prominent as he did so.

"Maybe we can come to a deal." Thranduil spoke. "But let me speak on a matter which I believe you can help us with. My people need a stronghold here in Arda, and for it we need builders. Aid from your kind will be very much welcome."

"If we help you, what will we have?" Narí asked.

"We can pay you-"

"Gold I have plenty," Narí interrupted. "And if I were to lend the services of my people, what will you give me in its place?"

"You need save passages to travel throughout the world." Thranduil answered. "I can offer you that. And also supplies, food and the like. That is one form of trade that you could not do properly, not without giving away your location." Narí looked at him and Thranduil knew he said the right thing. This was indeed something that weighed on the Dwarf's mind.

"I cannot deny that it is something we are in need of." Narí said at last. "And you have perceived it rightly. Very well, I will consider the idea if you can ensure me this arrangement."

"For that I will need to return to the surface to my own people."

Narí's lips curved into a smile beneath his beard.

"Well played, Elf." The Dwarf-king said. Thranduil's own lips twitched in reply. "How can I refuse? We will take you back to the surface under the condition this city remains hidden and its place a secret. I will not have evil brought here."

"You have my word."

When they were dismissed, Olben tugged Thranduil to a side, letting Miranda and Jimmy pass by, who were both sensible enough not to wait for them.

"We cannot promise them anything right now." The Warrior said quietly. "We have no kingdom even though we regard you our king. There is nothing to offer."

"I know," Thranduil answered. He nodded towards the throne room. "And he knows too. Everything is speculation at this point. We will only be able to pursue this later, once everything settles."

"If everything settles," Olben muttered. "What then?"

"At the moment, let us just focus on reaching the surface and contacting the rest."

Norí was the one to escort them back to the surface.

"So we meet again," the Dwarf said smiling at them. He was young, by Dwarven standards but Thranduil could not help but take a liking for him, more than for his father. There was something honest in his face that became him. "Come, we will take another, less long route to the surface. It is different from the one you used."

Norí led them to a mobile lift, suspended by wires and within minutes they were travelling above the city, the buildings looking small below them as they went higher and higher till they reached a tunnel. Norí led them through the tunnel, the Dwarves escorting them at the rear but none of them held their weapons at the ready like before, which meant they had received their trust. When they came to the finish, Norí turned to Thranduil.

"This is goodbye, for now." Norí said, stopping at the end of the tunnel. "When you go up, keep your eyes closed and open them slowly to prevent the burn of the sun."

"Thank you, for everything," Thranduil responded. Norí smiled.

"Something tells me I will be seeing you again, Elf-King." The Dwarf raised a fist in farewell and Thranduil did the same, making the Dwarves' smile widen.

When they returned to the house, they found the old woman near hysterics, though they could not guess whether it was from genuine concern of their safety or for their money. Also, to their surprise, was Oromë, standing in warm clothing with an annoyed expression.

"Where were you?" Oromë said furiously. "I searched high and low of this town-"

"Low, maybe, but you might have wanted to go a bit lower." Thranduil remarked. "The Dwarven City here, for example."

"Dwarven City?" Oromë's brows snapped together in confusion.

"You did not know?"

"Aulë likes to keep his secrets and my work is above the surface, here, where I can manage Elves which I could not because you were all frisking about under earth!"

Once Oromë's temper worn off, Thranduil looked at the Vala closely, noting the tired lines and the weary, strained features of his lips and eyes. He had never seen the Vala like this.

"Something has happened." Thranduil said. "You are not telling us what it is."

"I will have to." Oromë leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. "There has been a Kinslaying."

"WHAT?" Olben nearly started out of his chair, Jimmy and Miranda became grave.

"In your forest," He continued, gazing directly at Thranduil. "They came in the dead of the night. Oropher and Nimdir fought them off, but they could only do it for so long. They wanted first blood and they nearly took it, from your mother." Thranduil's hands tightened around his mug. The hot cocoa he had drunk now pooled at the pit of his stomach, making him feel sick. "She is alive. Oropher managed to save her."

"How is she?"

"Well, and under guard. So is your grandson, who is not too happy with the concept." Oromë shook his head. "There is another reason why I have come. The Door of Night is breaking."

"What exactly is the Door of the Night?" Jimmy asked, noting the increasing seriousness on Thranduil's face.

"It is a door leading to the Void." Thranduil answered. "The fallen Ainur, Morgoth, and his minions lie behind that door. Sauron was cast into it, along with the corrupted Maia."

"Sauron was destroyed!" Miranda put in.

"Defeated," Thranduil corrected. "Crippled beyond repair, and without a body to house his spirit. Never destroyed and never killed. He was cast into the Void to join his master."

"The Dagor Dagorath is coming." Oromë said.

"It is too soon." Thranduil said. "We are unprepared."

"It is not too soon. And everyone is unprepared for battle in times of peace." Oromë said. "Our strength is fading. Eru is taking it from us. The events leading to the Battle of Battles would be in your own hands. Our hands have become limited. We can only be of use for so long."

"But why you?" Miranda asked, turning her attention to Thranduil. "What has Morgoth against you?"

"Not Morgoth," Thranduil said. "Sauron; he has plenty against me. He never forgave me for breaking his hold over our forest in the Second Age."

"What happened?"

"It is a long story." Then Thranduil laughed mirthlessly. "But I can tell you he nearly killed me in his rage and he swore to bring me down."

"And in time, he would have." Oromë said quietly. "And this is added to Húro," he gestured at the left hand adorning the Ring of Storm. "You have become a powerful pawn on their enemy's side. They would want you to break so that you are easily defeated."

"Sauron already tried long ago and it did not work."

"Do not become too sure. He will learn from his mistakes." The Vala warned.

"How would Sauron or Morgoth know of the Ring?" Thranduil asked.

"There must be a way to communicate with them in the Void," Oromë acknowledged. "But we have not found it yet."

_~Do not take lightly the visions you keep having.~ _Oromë's words sounded in his mind. He looked at him sharply, but the Vala showed nothing to give it away.

"First blood could work either way, yes?" Jimmy asked.

"They love nothing of theirs to the extent as we do." Thranduil said. "And first blood is always connected to someone. In the case of Fëanor, it was his grandfather."

_A child walking in the starlight…Himself crying beside a grave…Elrond covering a body in a white sheet…Arodien dancing in the night with other Ellyth…A coin flipping back and forth…_

"I want to contact Jason. Arodien is going to have her own guard from now on." Thranduil said, straightening in his seat. "How long do we have in Dagor Dagorath?"

"I do not know. A decade, or maybe less," Oromë answered. "If you want my advice, then consider it already started."

oOo

_London,_

_United Kingdom._

Now that they were in the comfort of a motel, Hanon had a chance to study the woman more carefully. She had an average-height, with straight black hair and grey eyes. She looked to be in her twenties. She was carrying on her backpack with her, and nothing else. She said her name was Kate Roberts. Dorián claimed it had nothing to do with him and went to the bed in the room, collapsing on it for some rest.

"I detect a faint accent." Hanon said, carrying the conversation for both him and Fion.

"Australian mother from British descent and a British father. Divorced and I lived my summers here in Britain." She answered. "Take my accent as a mixture between Australian and British." One question answered, Hanon asked another one.

"You are not uneasy about being with three Men?"

"If you had something in mind, you would have done just as soon as we entered the room." She replied. "And no, I am not afraid. I have seen you all before."

"Really? Where?"

Kate looked suitably uncomfortable.

"I kept having these dreams some days back." She answered. "I dreamt that I was standing in front of Ukraine flag and I saw the three of you walking together. But you weren't dressed like that." She pointed at their frames, clothed in modern garments. "You were wearing old-fashioned clothes, and you hair was long and your ears were not round."

She paused just as Hanon's lips started to twitch. This was sounding ridiculous. She noticed it and scowled.

"I am fine at the head, thank you very much." She snapped at him. Fion on the other hand was regarding her seriously.

"Do you normally dream something like this?"

"Not this recurring," she said. "I dreamt it twice in a row at night and once while I nodded of too sleep in the afternoon. And each time it was the same. I just knew I had to come to Ukraine. I found you there one night going to the airport so I followed you and booked the same flight as you did."

"You did not notice we had changed flights?"

"Changed flights? No, I did not."

"I did dream another dream though." She said. "It was one I had since I was a child. I would be standing on the shore, and the waves were rising higher and higher, until they swept into the land like a tsunami. People were screaming and many of them drowned."

Hanon's smile disappeared. They looked at one another. Only Númenoreans had such dreams, said to have inherited the horrifying memory from their forefathers who witnessed the loss of their home, Atlantis as it was now known. Hanon now looked at her with different light.

"You asked us if we could tell you what you were."

"I thought if I was dreaming about you and the fact that none of you are Humans-"

"We are Elves."

"I thought you could tell me what this is."

"We cannot tell you at one glance what you are. Our lives are long, and we do not die, but we do not keep record of every one of the Race of Men." Hanon said. He was tempted to roll his eyes. Race of Men! Always putting so much of their hope and trust in things they deemed greater than them. But there was more to Kate than met the eye.

"I know." She said, unperturbed to the tone of his voice. She dug into her backpack, pulling out some papers. "Here, these are papers of my family tree." She said. "It is a very detailed one, and I inherited it after my father's death. As it moves further back, it becomes a little hazy, obviously because of time, but the most early of the names are written in a language I do not understand." Hanon's throat constricted, as the names changed from English to Anglo-Saxon to Westron to ultimately Sindarin until it finally ended. He glanced at Fion before their gaze fell on the name 'Thorongil'. It was the name of Eldarion's firstborn, in memory of Aragorn's work for his kingdom under that alias. He looked up at the woman was staring at them intently, not realizing Hanon's turbulent thoughts.

Hanon's brow furrowed slightly at the sight of a silver chain around her neck. Lowering his eyes, he found a round pendant tucked beneath the folds of her sweater. Reaching forward, he tugged on the chain, bringing the pendant out in the light.

"Where did you get this?"

"Oh, this?" she held up the old coin. "It had been in my mother's family for generations." She unclasped the chain. "My great-grandmother did pawn it once. But then she bought it back. It stayed with us since." Hanon took note of the white tree of Gondor, a standard form of coin used in Gondor over the ages. This woman, it seemed, had descended from Gondor on her mother's side. But something else was at work her. She would not be here just because of her dreams. Her dreams would not have appeared had she not have a role to play, just as Faramir and Boromir dreamt before joining the Council of Elrond. He glanced down at the family tree papers in his lap, his eyes catching the most recent of descendants.

"You had brothers," Hanon said. "What happened to them?"

"Eric, my older brother died in car accident." Kate said, putting her pendant back inside. "And Sam died sometime back, alcohol."

"And father?"

"His camping trip went wrong." She said.

"How close were the deaths?"

Something did not seem right.

"I lost them all in one year." She said. Then she frowned, making the connections. "Wait, you do not think-"

"What about your mother?"

"She's- dead. Had been for over three years now. Died due to," She closed her eyes, rubbing her head. "Oh God, she was killed; robbery gone wrong."

"_This cannot be a coincidence." _Fion muttered at Hanon. _"Everything is happening in a matter of one decade. The Enemy is moving too fast."_

"Would you mind telling me what is going on!" Kate said, irritated at Fion's change of language.

"You are coming with us." Hanon said. He called for Dorián, waking the Elf from his sleep. "Dorián wake up! We are moving. Give Thranduil a call to tell him we are ready for his plane."

oOo

_Tirion,_

_Aman._

_"They are not happy we are using this forge._" Celebrimbor told his kin.

_"It cannot be helped_." Mahtan returned, taking off his lens as he straightened. He was wearing his copper scarlet, keeping his hair away from his face as he worked. _"My forge is too far and your forge is too deep into the forests that we will hear none of our summons if we are called._" With a final piece, he fitted the contraption together which gave a satisfying 'click'. He handed it to Celebrimbor, who held the length of it at an eye level, studying it critically. Mahtan returned his attention to the combined scribbling of his and Celebrimbor's writing, theories over the gun they had written together. The forge had once belonged to Fëanor, but it had been abandoned since. Fëanor left in haste but not in haste enough to properly close down the forge. It was one he loved dearly, and often he and his sons had worked in it. They opened it now to find it still somewhat functional and made use of it.

The loud bang jolted Mahtan out of his thoughts and he turned his sharp eyes at Celebrimbor, who held a smoking gun in his hand, a blackened hole visible on the wall.

_"Be careful with that._" He barked. But the Elf paid him no attention.

_"There has to be a way to lessen the noise_." He mused.

_"At the moment let us work on making sure it does not backfire before improving it."_

They were so deep in their work that they did not notice the hooded and cloaked figure entering the forge.

_"It is very hot in here_." The figure remarked, his familiar voice startling both Smiths from the work.

_"You should not be here_." Mahtan said to the Elf as he pulled back his hood. His black hair was silky and straight, braided in Noldorin style. His grey eyes were set beneath arched eyebrows. The Elf shrugged off his cloak, Celebrimbor hastily going to the door and closing it.

_"There will be uproar in Tirion if they see you her_e." Celebrimbor warned, shutting the windows and enveloping the forge in darkness, the only light coming from the hot fires.

_"I heard you were working on a project given by the Valar. I decided to come and see if any help was needed."_

_"At what cost_?" Celebrimbor demanded the figure that greatly resembled him. _"A Kinslayer walking through the streets to Tirion will cause more chaos!"_

But Curufin raised a single brow.

_"Do not talk to me that way, boy. I lived long enough under your wing and protection but I will not sit by and watch our kin march in a battle underequipped. Besides, you are all terrible when it comes to new inventions. Here, give that to me. Let me see if I can improve it."_

oOo

_Heathrow Airport,_

_London._

Much to the relief of the three Elves, Thranduil and his companions were waiting just outside the airport.

"You are all a sight for sore eyes." Hanon said, grinning as he came to meet them. Thranduil embraced the former Head Commander of the Rangers before moving on to Fion and Dorián.

"How was the weather up in Russia?"

"Cold and dank but warm underneath," Thranduil answered. "We will talk more in the plane." He turned his attention to the fourth and unexpected companion.

"_I see you brought some added weight." _He observed, his voice not unkind.

"_She is of great concern to us."_

The young woman looked to be in twenties, average-looking, though her features spoke Númenorean on many levels. She also looked to be highly uncomfortable, twisting the strings hanging from her sweater on either side as she looked at each of them with growing nervousness.

Thranduil jolted when he felt Miranda smack him upside the head.

"Stop staring at her," she scolded. "All of you are scaring her out of her wits."

He rubbed the back of his head before nodding in apology at the woman before raising his brows at the three of them.

"We will explain later."

Once they boarded their plane and had taken off into the air, they sat down together, making good friends with another stolen bottle from Jason's stash, at the courtesy of Jimmy. They exchanged their stories, Thranduil and his team speaking first before letting Hanon and the three Elves speak of their part in Ukraine.

"And you saw nothing of this black sable?" Thranduil asked.

"We were too busy trying to run for our lives." Hanon said, shaking his head.

"There were Maia though."

"Oromë spoke of it. He also said the Door of Night was breaking. The lesser spirits would escape through the cracks first, be reborn. Creatures, like Wargs would come first, the orcs second."

"And when the Door breaks completely," Miranda said grimly.

"Then we will have Morgoth and his Captains, including Sauron."

"There was an Elf." Dorián said quietly. "The sniper who was firing at us; he was an Elf."

"You did not mention this!" Fion cried.

"I did not think it necessary at the time."

"You killed him. Didn't you?" Thranduil asked. Dorián's lips twisted but he did not deny it. The title 'kinslayer' came to their mind but none had the courage to utter it aloud. Thranduil had killed Elves too, back in Doriath when the Fëanorians came. He only placed his hand on the Elf's shoulder. "I will speak of this with you later. Tell me who it was. Was it someone you knew?"

"No," Dorián said. "He was a Vanya-"

"Vanya," Thranduil interrupted. "Are you sure?"

"Because if you are, then it means that there is greater trouble in Tirion," Fion said. "Ingwë may not know that he has traitors in his people." He said, naming the King of the Vanyar Elves.

"Do you think Oromë would know of this?" Hanon asked. Thranduil shrugged.

"I do not know. But if I know Artanis and the others, then I would say they suspect. Word travels fast in Aman, remember? I would not worry." But everyone could see Thranduil was suitably worried.

"What a life," Hanon murmured, rubbing his forehead. "Here we are, once again, to be under your rule, Thranduil, our king once again."

"At the moment, I am king in just a name." Thranduil said dryly.

"Lands will follow."

"King?" Kate asked, picking up the word from the Elf's speech. The young woman had been silent, watching them talk amongst themselves. Thranduil felt a twinge of guilt. They had not meant to ignore her. they simply had much to talk about. But then they realized her part in their party was due.

"Of course, where are my manners!?" Fion gestured at Thranduil, "We have not even properly introduced ourselves. This is Thranduil, son of Oropher, our King. Then there is Dorián, a nuisance to us all!"

"Hey!"

"And there is Hanon, Miranda and Jimmy."

But Kate's eyes were trained on Thranduil only.

"So you are the King of Mirkwood," Kate said in some surprise. Thranduil nodded.

"I have to say… I considered you a bit different."

"Cold-hearted, cruel and distant without much care for travellers?" Fion asked dryly. Thranduil smirked. "That came from a jest long ago when he and his father first came to Greenwood. It stuck from then on."

"Well, at least that is how they portray him." Kate said. She tucked her knees underneath her chin. Thranduil froze.

"Who portrays me?"

"Everyone," she answered. "But then not much is known about you."

"What do you mean by everyone?" Thranduil sat forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

"You are supposed to be nothing but fiction." She said.

Thranduil felt bewildered.

"Fiction?"

Kate spotted Miranda's tablet and asked, "May I?"

At Miranda's nod, she dove to it and searched until she found what she wanted and placed it in front of Thranduil's lap.

"Hobbit?" Thranduil asked in disbelief. "Lord of the Rings?"

"You are kidding me." Hanon muttered, digging up his cell phone and searching on it as well. Jimmy and Miranda clamored around, a bemused Kate watching them. They were silent for a good while as they read, article after article, word after word. At first Thranduil was stunned. Then he wanted to laugh. Then he wanted to weep. But in the end of it all, he just did not know what to do.

"I am a fiction character." He said, voice glum to his ears. It sounded ridiculous. Men and their Race! So forgetful and fragile like butterflies in the wind!

"I am more concerned why this never came up in the Fellowship." Dorián commented.

"I am more concerned none of the Fellowship spoke of it."

They looked at Miranda, who was the first person to come in mind, but she shook her head.

"I was a soldier. And then I worked on the Fellowship. Busy as I was, I did not put much of my time on movies."

They looked at Jimmy, who scowled. "Do you know how much time it takes in med school? I barely had time to sleep, let alone study."

"What, you did not spend your time with gangs?" Dorián asked. Jimmy scowled at him.

"That, Margaret is a racial thing."

"You missed the large signboards in NYC of the Hobbit?" Miranda asked Thranduil. "How is that possible?"

"I missed them the same way I missed the airbrushed models wearing little clothing," Thranduil replied dryly, making Jimmy choke while he drank his soda. Dorián and the other Elves quirked a smile and Miranda shook her head, saying, "Point taken."

"Question is more or less on this book-" Fion said.

"Lord of the Rings-" Hanon filled in.

"And the rest of the books came out," Fion finished. "Is this a work of the Fellowship?"

Miranda shook her head.

"Highly unlikely," she said. "The first time the Fellowship was founded was by a group of men from the Haradrim who were friends with Gondor. But as time went by and the Ages hurried and shortened, we gradually lost pieces of our own history. We could not have such detailed number of events as this."

"So whoever had written these had immense knowledge of history- our history," Thranduil amended. He rubbed his hand over his face. to think there was a time when he used to enjoy a cup of coffee in his apartment back in NYC!

"Tolkien might have some connection with Elves," Kate offered.

"What about the third group who shut down the Warg case?"

"Warg case?" Kate interrupted.

"I will tell you later," Miranda said to her. "You might as well know what is going on if you are sticking around our type."

"It doesn't really make sense to me." Thranduil replied. "Why tell the world about history when it is connected to you? It defeats the purpose of laying low."

"He could be a descendant." Fion said. "One of the descendants of Númenor are bound to keep old copies of the work."

"And translated from Sindarin or Westron?" Thranduil asked then shook his head. "Again, unlikely. No, there has to be a bridge somewhere. Something to connect both this world and Middle-Earth-" he stopped suddenly. Memories resurfaced. "Eriol," he muttered, running his hand through lengthening hair. "How could I have forgotten?"

"Who is Eriol?" Jimmy asked.

"Our question exactly," Hanon put in, the other Elves nodding.

"It was a name the Teleri had given to a Man who came on to Tol Eressëa. His real name was Ælfwine, an Anglo-Saxon descended from Eärendil. I met him once in Tol Eressëa, a chance meeting when I had accompanied Nimdir to the island. Rúmil and the other scholars taught him our language and he translated the history into his own tongue and he took his books with him back to Arda."

"So Tolkien either is the descendant of this Eriol, or he found these books." Kate said.

"That I do not know." Thranduil answered. "But to me, this story seems more likely. A tale so grand can easily pass off as nothing but a work of fiction."

"Why is it so important to know where these books originated from?" Kate asked curiously. "I mean, it does not affect what we have to do, right?"

"Because it is a bit hard to believe that we are all fiction in the eyes of Men," Dorián told her.

"And because it would give me some peace of mind," Thranduil put in.

"It is a bit interesting, though, to be considered such. Remember that the Rohirrim did not believe in the Lady Galadriel and considered Andúril to be a myth." Fion said thoughtfully.

"I am not," Thranduil said through clenched teeth, "a work of fiction. Stop making me question my existence! However, I am surprised you did not take us as a work of fiction." Thranduil said, looking up at the woman.

"My father always insisted there is a world which we do not know. These books were something he always insisted for us to read. We did it because of our British background, me and my brothers." She said.

"And then there is the case all the male members of her immediate family were killed in the same year." Hanon told Thranduil.

"What of your grandfather- paternal grandfather?"

"Died of natural causes," Kate answered.

But Thranduil could understand Hanon's concern. The deaths of all three of her male relatives was suspicious indeed.

"You never saw the connection?" he asked her.

"I never needed to." Kate answered. "I thought all of them were just what they were; accidents. There was nothing to suggest foul play."

"Often the most complicated murders are," Thranduil murmured. "Mother?"

"Killed in a robbery gone wrong."

"Highly unlikely, when put together with the fate of others," Hanon nodded to Thranduil's statement. Thranduil studied the young woman. "You are very much calm, given the recent events."

"I am panicking inside, I can assure you." She told him, grinning wryly. Then she sobered and shook her head. "I just do not know what to think. This is a lot for me to process. If you want to see me panic outwardly, give me a few days and you just might wake up listening to me scream at the top of my lungs one morning."

The thought brought an upward twitch of his lips.

"You are taking it calmly, considering you are fiction in our world."

"I do not know how to react." Thranduil admitted before straightening and returning to the matter at hand. "Well, we will look into it more, later. Right now, let us just get some rest. I think we are all in need of it. And only chance to get some good sleep is here on the plane."

But when Miranda, Jimmy and Kate retired to their seats for some rest, the Elves came into a cluster and listened to Hanon recount everything related to Kate.

"Are you sure?" Thranduil pressed, ignoring Jimmy's loud, rattling snores.

"I am." Hanon answered.

"There is a possibility for another family to descend from Aragorn's first line of sons," Fion put in.

"But they would not be a direct line," Dorián answered. He gestured his thumb at the woman and the Elves looked warily. Kate was fast asleep, they were sure. "She comes from the direct line of sons. Her father was the first son to be born in his family and the same goes as far back. They killed off her brothers to finish the line."

"She would not come to harm." Olben protested. "She is a woman and like you said, her brothers and father are the only one dead."

"Mayhap they realized they killed the wrong pieces. She is the one who has the foresight after all." Fion said.

"Kate," Thranduil suddenly called out, starting them all. "Did your brothers possess these dreams you have, or anyone in your family from either side?"

Kate opened her eyes, looking guilty. All the Elves raised their brows at her.

"Next time we are talking in our own language." Thranduil told his companions.

"What part of not scaring her witless did you not understand?" Miranda prodded, getting up from her own feigned sleep. Jimmy on the other hand, was still snoring.

"I am king. I do what I please." Thranduil spoke. "But she has not answered my question."

"Grandfather used to say he dreamt again and again of this island submerging into water. My father had no dreams, neither did my brothers. If they had, they did not make mention of it."

"As if foresight existed in Elrond's line in every generation!" Fion said. "His father did not possess foresight, and neither did his brother. Elladan has the gift but neither Arwen nor Elrohir did. Then Eldarion had a bit of it but his son had more."

"I am related to a king?" Kate asked.

"Do not be too happy with the prospect." Thranduil told her. "If you had your dreams, then it means you have a purpose and I do not think it will be a pretty one." Miranda turned in her seat, the blanket flaring about her as she did so before settling down once again.

"Go to sleep." Miranda called from her seat.

"We Elves do not need much sleep." Dorián said with as much dignity as he could muster. Miranda ruined it.

"Well, we do. So stop your whispering."

The Elves threw each other amused looks.

"We might as well get some rest." Hanon offered, others quickly agreeing.

Hanon and Thranduil took seats side by side with Dorián and Fion opposite to them. Thranduil stayed awake for a while, feeling Hanon shift about in his seat, looking for a comfortable position. He muttered something under his breath. Then silence ensued.

"Technically you have sixteen year olds lusting after you." Hanon said suddenly.

"Shut up."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**OCs:**

Lol, I am sorry for pushing so many OCs at you, but do not worry. Not long before you meet your canon friends.

**Female OCs:**

One hard thing about making female OCs is to make sure they do not a) fall into the Mary-Sue category b)turn into typical ffn character. Balancing it is pretty hard. One thing I can assure you is that none of the female OCs are MS, since I checked them through the 45 questions... and none of it was even remotely yes.

**Tolkien, Arda and Modern Age:**

This is the basis of my story. This is the reason why I was saying it is NOT an AU. Tolkien has in fact (canonically) connected himself to the past. He used to actually have dreams of an island submerging into water and this inspired him to create Numenor. One of his descendants later had the same dreams.

**Elves' Reaction:**

Considering the fact to be approached by someone asking what her dreams meant in a critical time, I think either the reaction would be a) push her away b) entertain her but find the prospect absurdly amusing. I leaned towards (b) since Hanon, Fion and Dorian are Silvan, meaning they are dangerous but less wise than their kin.

**Story Flow:**

Kate is considered to be 'probable', and not yet firmly believed to be a descendant, partly because the Elves had not kept track of everything that was happening in Arda. They honestly do not know how far the lines have went, though Tolkien did say that the line of Luthien flourished to the point of not know the exact number of descendants.

**Eriol:**

Eriol was a name given to mariner who had the same longing for the sea as Earendil. He was his descendant and he heard whispers of the Straight Road that led to Aman, but the knowledge of this Road was lost. He embarked on a journey to find it and wounded up on Tol Eressea where he was welcomed by the Elves who called him Eriol. Rumil, an esteemed Elven scholar, lived on this island and taught him their language, LOTR, Silmarillion and the making of the world, as well as give him information of Dagor Dagorath.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_Tirion,_

_Aman._

The ground shook as another catapult was hauled, slamming against the palace walls and destroying it. Elrond ducked as the ceiling crumbled, thankfully not in great amounts to stagger him. The rubbles rolled off his back as he straightened, sprinting away from the hole in the palace wall where he was an easy target.

"_MOVE TO THE PALACE GATES_!" He shouted, grabbing his sword. The uprising happened, as he had predicted, and it started just at the break of dawn, when the Elves were awakening and others were going to bed after a night of duty. Merrymaking was a thing of the past from now on.

He kept repeating the orders, galvanizing the guards to action as he bid them to hurry. He found Fingon standing at one of the windows, peering out. Out of a passing window, he got a glimpse of an Elf turning his bow towards Fingon, who was looking elsewhere.

"_Get down_!' he called to him, running. He barely reached Fingon in time, tugging him down as the arrow whizzed pass, hitting the wall with a clatter before falling to the floor.

"_You shouldn't have been so out in the open."_ He told the Elf beneath him, who was momentarily out of breath, just as he was, from the impact. Elrond rolled off him and the two Elves retreated from the window, crawling to safety.

"_I wasn't considering the probability of being shot by the very Elves whom I trained_." Fingon said. They heard shouts coming from within the palace, echoing through the corridors.

"_We have to move. We are not safe here."_ Elrond said, grabbing him and hauling him up. Neither of them was wearing armor. None of the Elves on their side were, in fact, being caught off-guard. It was a grim disadvantage. The two of them ran through the corridors.

"_Father would probably be in the East Wing_," Fingon called over his shoulder. A loud blast sounded and Fingon stumbled as the side of the corridor fell inside itself, Elrond pulled him back.

"_I owe you… again_." Fingon said. They glanced out of the gape.

"_We are going to die_." Elrond said grimly, watching the approaching Maia. They were at a disadvantage, outfitted, and now outnumbered in terms of power.

"_Let's move_." One of the Maia raised his hand. "_MOVE_!"

Fingon grabbed Elrond's arm, dragging him over the rubble to the other side, missing the blast of fire towards them.

"_Father_!" Fingon cried, spotting Fingolfin standing in the middle of Elves.

"_It is good to see you safe_." Fingolfin said, studying them both. The ground shook.

"_Where is Turgon?"_

"_Protecting the rear,"_ The King answered. "_We are surrounded at all sides."_

"_There are Maia." _Elrond interrupted.

"_How many?"_ Finarfin demanded.

"_Thirty Maia and the rest are Elves_," a guard answered, joining them. The ground vibrated and dust fell on them from the ceiling.

"_Well, at least they do not have guns."_ Elrond said. "_That is a small mercy."_

"_It wouldn't be if the arrows are poisoned, which they are. And there are a few guns, I suspect."_ Finarfin answered. "_It is potent. One shot and I have seen my soldiers die from a simple graze of an arrow. Be careful not to get shot. Archers have already taken position at higher floors. I want the swordsmen to follow me, spearmen in the front. We will deal with them in the open."_

"_There is King Ingwë and Lady Galadriel!"_ One of the Elves cried, pointing.

Elrond raised his eyes to look at the tall Elleth standing across the yard on the balcony, her silver-golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. The ground shook and cracks appeared along the length of the palace wall, surrounding the balcony and forcing it to fall. Fingon gave a cry.

"_Galadriel_!" He would not be able to reach his cousin, he knew. But Ingwë, standing behind her, lunged forward, grabbing on to her hand and stopping her fall. The Elleth dangled, her silver-golden hair swaying with the motion of her body before Ingwë pulled her up, chest heaving when he finally let her go on safe ground. She lay on the ground, shaken before turning and gesturing at them that she was fine.

"_We have to move."_ Finarfin said grimly. Then he shouted up to Ingwë. _"Your men await your command in the gardens!"_ Ingwë gestured at him that he understood.

They joined Finarfin's soldiers to the grounds, taking the advancing army. A single look showed they were suffering heavy losses. The Maia were relentless and the traitors were ruthless.

"_Give them no quarter!"_ Finarfin shouted above their head. Elrond's eyes fluttered close for a brief moment. This was going to be a bloody day.

Everyone he faced were either Vanya or Noldor. At first, he cut only to wound, until a downed opponent slashed at him with a hidden knife and a snarl, cutting through his shirt and nearly cutting his skin with it. He brought his sword up and finished him off.

"_That will get you killed_!" He heard one of the Elves shout at him. Elrond did not make the same mistake again.

"_TAKE COVER!"_

The warning gave him enough time to duck behind a heap of rubble. He heard the clutter of arrows against his shelter. Spotting Fingon kneeling behind cover of stone fence, he waited for the volley to finish before taking the chance to join him, rolling in the open before stumbling beside Fingon.

"_Any wounds?"_ he asked.

"_None_," Fingon replied.

"_I am fortunate as well."_

They heard a guttural roar, ripping through the air, challenging its foes.

"_It has been Ages since I last heard that voice_." Fingon said grimly.

"_TROLLS_!" Elrond bellowed the warning.

"_BRING ME THE SPEARS!_" Finarfin's voice echoed in the air. The spear-bearers leaped to the command, aiding Finarfin in battling the new arrivals.

"_The Door is breaking too fast if the trolls have been reborn."_

"_It will only be a matter of time until the orcs follow." _Fingon answered grimly.

"_We have to even the ground. Any ideas?"_ Elrond asked. Fingon frowned as he thought.

"_Finrod has been working on some new substances. They would force things to catch fire, once coated in them. And it cannot be quenched by water."_

"_Where is it?"_

"_East tower,"_ he answered. "_Where he works; but we will not be able to reach it in time!"_

"_We will have to."_

"_We will be burning down our own city with it!"_

"_Better the city than our lives, then. Come! We must hurry."_

They hurried, entering through one of the gapes in the walls and sprinting through the corridors till they entered the building itself, Fingon in the lead. Finrod's laboratory was painfully organized but at the moment they could not be more thankful for the fact. They found the stash; clear liquid encased in the fine, thin glass. They took the stash till they stood in a wide window.

Elrond looked at the bottles of clear liquid, the only evidence of them not being water is that they stuck to the walls slightly longer than water would and they sparkled with different colors in the sunlight.

"_What do you do?"_

"_You light them on fire and they continue to burn."_

Elrond pulled off the cap, using a knife to break the neck so the mouth became much wider.

"_What are you-"_But Elrond threw it in the air, the liquid spilling at as he did so, making a line in the air as he did so? As it fell, he threw a torch after it.

Flames leaped up, licking everything in its path. Some of the Maia were caught in it. The screams of the dying filled the air, and Elrond felt a pang of pain. How did this come to be? But the fire began to spread, moving towards the grass and soil than towards the stonework of the palace building. One of the traitors looked at them in fury and hate. Fingon had commandeered a bow and a quiver of arrows from a corpse, providing Elrond cover as he continued to throw the liquid in the air. But in spite of the enemy's brief surprise and the initial losses, the enemy had recovered and was pressing.

Fingon grabbed Elrond, pushing him down to the ground. They heard something whizz pass and a loud explosion vibrated through the air, shaking the ground they were pressed against. Getting up, they looked at where the explosive had hit. Fires leaped up, consuming a part of the building and licking up the garden.

"_We have to get out of here_." Fingon said grimly. "_The palace is lost. We cannot hold our ground."_

"_And go where?"_ Finarfin asked his nephew. "_There is no place for us to retreat! The city walls have become our prison and we have not made an escape route should this ever happen."_

"_And let us not forget that we have our families still hidden in the cellars." _Fingolfin added._"Cowards we will be to flee while they hide."_

"_And yet if we go now, we will be able to fight another day." _Elrond argued. He had nothing against the Ellyth and the children, of course. But someone had to be realistic. Someone had to be a voice of reason to instill the commander's visage in all of them. None of the other Ellyn looked happy at his words.

"_Where are Ingwë and Galadriel?"_ Finrod asked.

"_We were separated from the battle."_

"_Pray that nothing happens to them!"_

"_I hope not."_ Elrond said, thinking of his mother by marriage. His foresight had been shrouded, unable to see beyond as he usually could. The early sunlight rays showered on them as they continued to fight, the situation becoming more and grimmer by the minute. The courtyard was littered with unmoving bodies and they had to watch it their footing. Fingon chanted Words of Power, holding as much of the Maia's power as he could at bay but it was too much. His voice slowly lessened to nothing and the enemy pressed on them, the black sable banners hoisting on poles. Their lines became shorter, their numbers dwindling by every fall of blades.

"_THE VALAR!"_ A cry went up. "_The Valar have come!"_

Elrond shared a serious look with Fingon. The coming of the Valar to help held a heavy meaning. Never had the Valar took a direct part when Kinslayings were involved. Eru had forbidden them. So to allow them a part here would mean that the situation was far serious.

Tulkas and Manwë marched forward, wielding their weapons, fully armored. The Maia's line faltered at the sight, before one of them stepped proudly in the front to Tulkas.

Tulkas looked at the Maia coolly, before switching his blade in the other hand and swiping it backwards. The Maia stepped back hastily, nearly missing the arc by few inches. Tulkas changed hands once again, bring the blade up and swinging it downwards. Finarfin shouted them to press forward and they did.

Barely half an hour later, the enemy was driven back, the wounded traitors captured and sent to be treated and questioned, and Manwë and Tulkas fighting off the last of the Maia. The trolls and the Wargs were pushed back, killed, the souls going back to the Void.

"_They'll be back."_ Fingon said grimly, his sword dripping with blood.

"_This was too close for comfort."_ Elrond said grimly, sheathing his sword and accepting a water skin gratefully from a nearby guard. Taking some precious sips, he ended it to Fingon.

"_Elrond,"_ Fingon said softly. He looked at the black-haired Elf, who jerked his chin indicating someone. He turned to find his two sons standing together, conversing with Fingolfin.

"_What are you doing here_?" Elrond demanded, walking up to his sons.

"_We came to help."_

"_You should be with Oropher, with your families-"_

"_The same way you should be with mother_." Elrohir interrupted. "_But duty comes first, and that is why we are here, father."_

"_Pray do not scold us."_ Elladan added. "_I foresaw this event and we hastened to come."_

Elrond nodded at length, not too happy with the notion but knowing they were well as they were. His sons were strong, capable of holding themselves in a fight.

"_Come_," Fingon said. "_There is an argument going over there. Let us see what it is about_." He gestured towards a crowd, with Manwë standing in the middle of Fingolfin, Finarfin, Finrod and Turgon. They looked to be in a heated conversation. Elrond looked at Fingon's father, who was normally very calm looking very agitated.

"_I am not happy with the prospect._" Fingolfin was saying, shaking his head.

"_I do not think any of us are, but we will be must make our peace with this."_ Manwë answered.

"_The question at the moment is how they managed to get inside without arousing suspicion_?" Finrod put in.

"_They were planning it for weeks."_ Manwë answered. "_One of the captured Elves told us. They brought the weapons in carefully. And they settled into the city undergrounds and attacked at first light. The catapults were in the form of separate pieces which they assembled just before dawn."_

"_They have given this much thought."_ Tulkas observed. "_So their line of attack was already for this place. But to what end?"_

"_Olwë,"_ Finrod said suddenly. "_Alqualondë! The city by the Sea will be hit next, I fear. We must act swiftly, before they enter the city-"_

"_And burn the ships and kill the shipwrights,"_ Elrond finished grimly. The plan was well-laid; start with Thranduil's family to divert their attention there before striking Tirion, where the majority of the royalty of Vanya and Noldor lived, before heading for the Teleri. It was glorious in fact, in its bloody and ruthless way.

Manwë's face, if possible, became much, much, graver.

"_I am posting as many Maia as possible to stay with Olwë."_ Manwë said. "_The ships and the shipwrights, along with their supplies must remain protected at all costs. Destruction there will be drastic, cutting off the only escape from Aman."_

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

"This is so much information." Jason murmured, studying the reports from both Ukraine and Russia. "It is hard for me to wrap my hand around it."

"I know." Thranduil said, leaning over Jason's desk in the control room, palms resting on the table. "So what do you know about these books?"

"Nothing," Jason said. "I wasn't too big when it came to books. I was never a book-lover. Mother was but she knew how much we both ran from our lineage, given our father constantly talked about it."

"And this woman? Kate? Have you any knowledge on her line?"

"The lines have stretched throughout the Ages. I do not know. We never kept track of it, however. Usually the royal families kept track of their own lineages."

"So there is a possibility that she is the descendant of Aragorn?"

"Highly possible, but not completely. The true bloodline matters. Infidelity, however, is existent throughout the eras." Thranduil frowned.

"What of Dave?"

"I have nothing." Jason said, shaking his head. "It has been nearly a week since that near-disastrous mission."

"And any plans?"

"Nothing for now. We managed to position some of our spies into the enemy footholds. That should give us something."

Thranduil was waylaid by Hanon.

"_I need to talk to you._" He muttered. He led him to one of the smaller rooms, closing the door behind them.

"Something doesn't add up about Kate's background." Hanon said. "Her family's murder may mean that someone she knows is involved. And given the situation, we should try to find out more. We are already some many steps behind the enemy."

"I do not want to risk any of the Fellowship or my people for this."

"If we find anything, it might even confirm whether she is a proper line of Aragorn or not."

Hanon had a point. Thranduil nodded reluctantly.

"Speak to Jason further on this."

The Elves were more curious about the books but Kate had been reluctant to share more information, so the Elves took it upon themselves to find out more.

"So is it accurate?" Kate asked.

"Very accurate," Thranduil answered. "But I do not know about the dates here, of where the Fellowship was when. That is something one of our scholars would know. But the main stream is."

"Are we in the book?" Hanon asked, bending over the sofa to look at Kate. She shrugged.

"I do not know." She replied. "I read it but it was a long time ago. I had only a bare interest in the books. But I think we knew very little of Mirkwood."

"Good," Hanon said. "At least they could not invent anything related to us."

"Jokes aside," Thorontur said. "This will make matter difficult. If we are ever to appear, which we will have to in time, then we will have a hard time convincing everyone of who we are."

"If that time ever comes, I believe that a drastic event will have to take place. I think the Race of Men will believe when that happens."

"Well, at least you do not have to read-"

"What?" Legolas demanded.

"Well, there is something called to the fan fiction," Kate mumbled. "It's where fans write their fantasies in some realm, in this case Lord of the Rings and the rest of the books."

"It can't be bad."

"… I read it once and I can tell you it is."

They glanced at her before they immediately scrambled for their electronics. For a moment all of them stared disbelieving at the screen. Then a laugh erupted from Fion's throat.

"Don't laugh," Thranduil snapped at his friend who immediately tried to stifle it under a coughing fit. "I need a drink," Thranduil muttered, getting up. Arodien only placed an elegant hand over her lips, hiding a smile.

"Thranduil and Thorin! Imagine!"

"Fion, you are having far too much fun from this, especially for someone who doesn't exist in the books."

"Maybe I am just someone else's creation then."

"What a wonderful world it would be!" Hanon said playfully, earning himself a light jab on the ribs when Fion elbowed him.

Legolas, on the other hand, did not take it as gracefully as his father did.

"Me and Hobbits!" he said aghast. "Me and Gimli!" Then he frowned. "ME AND ARAGORN!"

Dorián winced.

"Calm down."

"Do not ask me to calm down." He snarled, scrolling down the tablet with his index finger. Opposite to him, Életh gave a burst of laughter. Legolas looked at his wife, who immediately tried to suppress it. She lounged on a chair, studying the same site as they were.

"What is it?" He asked warily.

"Nothing," she said, a brief upturning of the corners of her lips. Legolas sighed and kept scrolling. What could possibly be the source of-?

He stared. And then he stared longer. He continued to scroll down, while Dorián's shoulders began shaking with silent mirth. Legolas stilled for a moment before abruptly throwing the tablet into Dorián's lap and getting up.

"I think I need to be alone." He muttered darkly, leaving. As soon as he did, Életh gave a peal of laughter.

"Oh, the fantasies!" She exclaimed. "Poor Legolas! I did not know my husband was so sought for."

Dorián grinned.

The other source of amusement was Haldir's part. Thranduil took great pleasure in informing him his place in the world of fiction.

"Apparently you are unwed and in love with a mortal, modern woman or women or in love with a she-Elf who happens to be my daughter." Thranduil said, taking his finger off the button, thinking briefly before pressing it again. "Or you might be in love with my son."

There was silence on the other end.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Haldir asked warily.

"I wish," Legolas grumbled.

"Race of Men has… twisted imagination."

"'Twisted' was not the word I used." Legolas told Haldir. "In fact, I used some colorful language not fit for ears who understand Rohirric, Westron, Dwarvish or English." Haldir chuckled.

"I do not blame you. though you have a… extensive vocabulary."

"You pick it up when you have mortals for friends." Haldir laughed on the other end.

"That you do. Is there anything else of importance? We are clogging up a military line."

"How are the new cadets doing?" Jason asked.

"Pitiful, but we will make something out of it yet." Haldir answered. "The weather has not been favorable lately, real and… otherwise."

"How exactly?"

"Let us just say the waters in the government buildings have been a bit cooler recently. And colder. But it is nothing to be worried about. It will pass over."

"I hope so," Jason said. "We cannot afford to lose that airbase."

"You won't. and now I must go. there is work to be done."

A brief goodbye and they broke the line.

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

He managed to corner Dorián, who had not been too keen to meet him.

"Avoiding me?" Thranduil asked wryly.

"I might," Dorián said reluctantly. The King was far too sharp-eyed to be fooled.

"I do not blame you." Thranduil said, chuckling. He gestured at the Elf to sit opposite to him, offering him a filled wine glass before taking one in his own hand. "I had done the same."

"You did?" Dorián looked at the king, who nodded. "You killed Elves in the Second Kinslaying."

"In Doriath, yes," Thranduil said. He looked down at his glass, finger tracing the rim. "It is not… a fond memory." Thranduil sighed. "I grieved for months after; along with the grief of my dear mother and the loss of the Elves I knew and held dear."

"Who did you speak to?"

"Thorontur," Thranduil said. "He gave me a talk I was not happy to have but it was good for me nevertheless."

"And what advice you would give to me?"

"That it is good for you to feel its guilt," he said. "But to allow it to overwhelm you, will lead you to your own early demise. However, to lose that guilt completely will cause your moral decline." Thranduil took a sip before frowning and placing his wine glass on the table between them. "You find a middle ground. The guilt should remain to keep your morality, and you should lighten your burden enough to not allow the guilt to overwhelm you.

"Does it haunt you?" Dorián asked. "The killing."

Thranduil paused for a moment, remembering how he had stared at his hands, bloodstained with Elven blood.

"It always did."

In the evening, Jason called them for a meeting. "We have a problem." Jason held up a slim file. "Got a friend of a friend to take up some files regarding the Warg case."

"Friend of a friend?" Miranda interrupted. "What happened to Alice?"

"Displaced," Jason answered. "She went underground. She has been found out by whoever these followers of black sable are."

"And no doubt ready to be silenced," Miranda said, rolling her eyes when Jimmy made a pining look at her.

"There has been another murder." Jason said. "The news is old, though."

"Who is it?"

"A male," Jason answered. "Same thing, except this time the work was sloppy and hurried." He surrendered the file into Thranduil's hand. Thranduil ran an experience eye over the pages.

He stood in front of fragments of a sword. Éowyn stood beside him. "We need to take up the sword once again."

"Where is the photo of the message?"

"Unfortunately, I did not get the entire report. We are missing a few pictures from the second crime scene. But get this; there is a connection between the two. The two victims had UV tattoos of black sable." Thranduil raised his brows.

"So they kill their own?"

"Not only that, it would be safe to say they mark them too with UV tattoos of black sable. At least that of the Race of Men. I have already ordered all of our footholds to check their personnel. There is a chance they do not have one so they could fit into our holds but I doubt it."

"What about Grey Havens?"

"It is clean." Jason said. "I checked that first before making you aware."

"I have something as well." Arodis said, digging up her laptop. "Who remembers history?"

"No gloating with the king," Thranduil prodded her. "Tell me what you have."

"The identity of the Black Sable," she answered. "It is actually an emblem, used in the Silmarillion and it is a personal emblem belonging to Morgoth."

"I am surprised you did not recognize it," Fion remarked to Thranduil.

"I never had anything personal with Morgoth." He answered. "And if I should have known regarding the fact that I belong to Thingol's court, I was not much of a participant. And what dealings I had with orcs only stayed till the protection of Doriath and her borders, not beyond that."

"Do we know anything as to how Morgoth could have a relation from the Void?"

"The Valar are still investigating."

"I think we should focus on establishing here first." Thranduil said. "We cannot worry of the dealings in Aman. We have our own problems."

oOo

_Tirion,_

_Aman._

Rest had eluded him, so he spent most of his time tending to any wounded he came across. Elladan and Elrohir helped, though Elladan did not have the talent as he and Elrohir had. But the Elf could work efficiently and be useful when the time came, so he stayed.

Most of the wounds were unlike he had ever treated. The guns could do greater and lesser damage than arrows, in a way. Arrowheads were broader, driving into the flesh, harder to pull out because of its width. But the bullets would go far too deep inside, harder to find, and causing more internal damage by bleeding and rupturing organs. He lost seven Elves to his hands already, shaking his head in grief and gesturing to the helpers to cover their bodies with sheets.

He glanced up, his eyes falling over Fingon's tired frame leaning against the doorway. Stepping away from his patient and gesturing at another to take his place, he washed his hands and made his way to him.

"_How are you?"_

"_Well,"_ Fingon said.

"_What is the situation in the city?"_

"_We are still counting the dead. We have lost many today. Not as many homes destroyed, however. The palace faced most of the destruction."_

A messenger that Fingon had sent to find the wellbeing of all the Elves belonging to his family had returned. The Elf stood apart, waiting to be acknowledged. Fingon spotted him and called him over.

"_What do you have for me_?" Fingon asked.

"_Lady Galadriel and her husband are well, and so are all of your brothers. Finrod with his brothers are overseeing the extinguishing of the fires. King Ingwë is being treated-"_

"_Treated? Treated for what?"_ Elrond asked sharply.

"_A Warg had caught Ingwë unaware. The King was pushed back to the ground in the fight and the Warg had bit into his leg, nearly taking it all from. It took three archers to bring down the Warg. He was bleeding and unconscious when we got to him."_

"_Is he being tended?"_

"_Aye, my lord. In one of the buildings near the palace, in fact."_

"_I will come and help."_ Elrond said, immediately rising. But the Elf stayed him.

"_The deed is done_," he said quietly. "_His leg could not be saved. They had to remove it, ere he lost too much blood_." Elrond mentally shook his head.

"_Lead me to him."_

With the palaces destroyed or nearly turned to rubble, they had moved much of the staff and the inhabitants in the nearby houses, which were a wide assortment. Elrond was led to one of these, a dainty house with red tiles and golden-brown bricks. Upon entering, he found the guards sitting and conversing quietly, cleaning and sharpening their weapons. He was led up the stairs to one of the bedrooms.

Ingwë lay on the bed, his face ashen and sweat dotting his brow. The bedside table was littered with healing salves and bandages. He was not covered with a blanket, the damage visible to his eyes. Where there was once a leg and foot, was now a stump, cut just below his knee and covered with clean white bandages that were streaked with blood.

He reached forward, gently brushing his shoulder. Ingwë's eyes opened, tired, staring into his own.

"_How are you feeling_?" Elrond asked, pressing his palm lightly on the King's forehead to check his fever. He had none, meaning the sweat was only from the shock and trauma of the amputation.

"_As can be expected for someone who lost a leg_," Ingwë answered, managing to add a bit of ruefulness to his tired voice. _"I would have to apologize to Artanis for not taking her word."_

"_She understands."_ Elrond said. He knew from a king as great as Ingwë the admission cost his pride dearly. Ingwë realized his intentions and only squeezed his hand when Elrond moved to grasp his. "_You will get better soon."_

"_I am a cripple."_

"_We will think of a way."_

"_I will be no use to my people."_

"_Great kings are not only great kings in battle." _Elrond argued. "_Rest for now. We will speak later."_

Later, after he made sure Celeborn and Galadriel were well, he met with Fingon under one of the rattled but still standing rooms in the palace.

"_Did you hear anything from Celebrimbor and Mahtan_?" Elrond asked.

"They stayed in the forge throughout the attack. The Valar have forbidden them from engaging in any fights." Fingon answered. "_Oh and we have a few arrivals. You missed it. Father!"_ He called Fingolfin as he ducked under the too-low ceiling of an arch that was crumbling.

"_Get someone to fix that_." Fingolfin called to some Elves loitering around. _"Either straighten it or bring it down."_ The archers stepped forward hastily to obey his command.

"_Is there anything I should know?"_ Fingolfin said coming up to meet them. Fingon gestured at them to follow him, and he led them to one of the smaller rooms that served for private dinners. There on the long dinner table lay three guns together.

"_Mahtan and Celebrimbor came with these, saying that they were fully functional but the bullets were spare since they did not make any. What was salvage from the enemy should work, if they are similar."_

"_Interesting,"_ Elrond commented. "_The damage is deadly, that I have noticed from what few guns were used during the assault."_ Fingolfin took on the guns in his hands. _"It has a very different feel_," Fingolfin murmured, holding the gun up. "_Fingon, I want you to train in these. Tell me what your progress is from time to time."_

Fingolfin picked up another one of the guns.

"_Strange_," Fingolfin murmured, frowning as he ran the fingers of one hand over the gun while the other held it in a firm grip.

"_What is?"_

"_I know Mahtan's and Celebrimbor's works, but this work belonged to…"_ Fingolfin shook his head. _"I must be thinking wrong. They might have changed their styles to make this new weapon."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_It isn't anything you should be concerned over." _Fingolfin said. "_Come, I do not think any of us have given ourselves the courtesy of rest, so we might as well take some while there is still time." _He straightened, placing the weapon carefully back on the table. "Fingon, this should be under lock and key until I am able to oversee properly what should become of them." Fingon nodded and gathered the weapons in his arms. With a brief farewell, all of them retired. The corridors leading to Elrond's room was destroyed, so he took one of the many pallets spread out on the floors in random rooms for his sleep, and only when his back met the pallet did he realize the extent of his weariness.

He awoke to find the fire burning low in the fireplace, the other pallets now full. He spotted his sons sleeping, one by the window and the other just two pallets away. He rose, straightening, some sleep still in his eyes but he knew from a brief look outside through a window that dawn was barely an hour away. Finding some water, he splashed it on his face before one of his hands wandered to his sword seeking assurance from its weight. He walked outside of one of the windows that led to the larger balconies and found it to be occupied.

Aulë stood, dressed in a sleeveless black shirt edged with gold, with matching trousers that were tucked in black boots. His biceps bunched as he moved his arms, golden-skinned, and his black hair was pulled in leather band so that no hair fell over his face and troubled his vision. A war hammer was slung over his back with a belt, feet apart to balance his weight. He was widely known for his strength, but he was also known for his gentle spirit. He was nurturing with his apprentices, kind but firm as a mentor should be, but it is said, deadly should anything of his own be threatened.

"_Son of Eärendil,"_ his voice was smooth and even, but kind._ "I had not expected to meet you this soon. Tulkas had planned a meeting this morning, should you wish to get some rest. I do not think you will be allowed to rest later."_

"_Sleep would not come to me now."_ Elrond answered. Instead of him joining Aulë, it was Aulë who came inside to join Elrond.

"_You are troubled."_ Aulë observed. _"It can be expected."_

"_Why are you here?"_

"_I have heard that a few of the Maia in the revolt served under me. I wanted to see them for myself."_

"_Did you?"_

"_Aye, I did." _There was sadness in the Vala's eyes. "_They have become darker in nature."_

"_What has become of them?"_

"_They have been imprisoned for now. Decisions will be taken later, as to what should be done with them."_ Aulë stood observing him before saying at last. _"You are burning with questions, I see. Ask, and I will see if I am at the liberty to answer."_

"_How is possible for the Maia to change?"_ Elrond asked. _"Dark natures are not in their fëa."_

"_It is not in anyone's fëa, except for the fell creatures like the Wargs or the Spiders who had their mother to be Ungoliant. _" Aulë answered. _"I would say they were changed the same way as Mairon had been."_

"_Mairon?" _The name sounded familiar.

"_You know him as Sauron,"_ Aulë said. "_He was Mairon before then, one of my brightest students who had great love for experimenting and he had curiosity beyond measure. The curiosity cost him in the end, for he chose to shadow Morgoth, who befriended him and then persuaded him to join his path. The time passed, and to be what you knew him as… this Sauron the Deceiver, he had to be changed internally. And this power came from Morgoth alone who twisted and marred his fëa, no doubt causing Mairon great, indescribable pain to corrupt his purpose of life until he became over time on of his greatest lieutenants and later Sauron."_

"_So, if his fëa were to return to normal, he would be himself… as Mairon?" _Elrond asked.

Aulë gave a sad smile. "_His chance to return his fëa to its original form vanished when he fled from our summons to give him a chance of redemption. Nay, he chose that life and now he will have to live it. His fëa has not blended far too much with the darkness and now he would remain with that fusion. The other Maia, however, might change… or they may not."_

"_You said Morgoth held that power. Can anyone else have it?"_

"_Nay, to change a fëa's nature is a power far too great. It is possessed by an Ainur, though perhaps a Maia is capable of producing something that is a likeness to it."_

"_How is it possible for Morgoth to commune enough through the Void to cause all of this?"_

"_The Door of Night is breaking." _Aulë answered. "_That is the reply itself. His hand and arm has grown strong and his fist is regaining its size. He will be able to impress upon people more and more as the Door breaks. And that should explain why the Maia are changing."_Then Aulë turned his head away from Elrond and looked out, the sky lightening into streaks of a new dawn. But the Vala, it seemed, was not aware of it. _"Sauron the Deceiver," _Aulë murmured. "_He will now more full of deceit than ever. I would advise all to be aware of him, for what is to come will not be like anything else."_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Concepts:**

**Dagor Dagorath:**

It has been named the Battle of Battles. So it will be greater than the Silmarillion, the War of Wrath, and the battles with Sauron. A lot of things happen in a war. Destruction of life, property, a decrease in morality (yes, it does happen. Certain conditions that arise that cannot be considered in a normal life and there really is no answer until at that moment.). I think personally it will be a jumbo pack of everything which I will not tell now.

**Elves Kinslaying:**

The Door of Night does break but Dagor Dagorath takes place in Arda. I can only assume Aman gets destroyed. It makes sense in a way. Morgoth loathed the Elves, and envied their beauty, so I would say that Aman would be attacked first.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_Tirion,_

_Valinor._

The stone gardens was in near ruins. He entered it to find most of the plants made of vines of iron and the flowers of gold, copper and silver melted and the gems shattered from one of the fire blasts from the Maia. Much to his dismay, Maglor's statue was broken, the body now pieces of white marble, and one mangled hand still clutching the harp in its grasp where it lay a few feet from the marble tree. One of the twins was destroyed, and Fëanor was gone, his son now tugging on only a hand. He found Fingolfin kneeling on the ground, working with something. The Elf seemed to be completely busy in his task, so much so that Elrond suspected he was not aware of his presence. He edged closer carefully, not wanting to disturb him and he found Fingolfin rearrange some pieces of marble until it formed only a face, the eyes fierce under arched brows and the facial features still elegant in the broken fragments.

_"He was hard to read."_ Fingolfin said aloud, looking down at Fëanor's face lying on the ground. It seemed he knew of his presence after all. _"He would be so cool and calm when he spoke to his, though we knew of his bouts of anger when he and father were alone. He never approved of my mother, nor of any of us."_

Elrond did not know what to say, so he kept his silence.

_"They keep asking why I followed him."_ Fingolfin said, still not looking up_. "Some even consider me weak, and they would not say it to my face, of course, but they whisper it behind my back. That I may have been strong to deal a heavy blow on Morgoth when the time came, but I was so weak, so eager to prove myself in Fëanor's eyes that I followed him willingly."_Fingolfin laughed but it was bitter to hear_. "The question burns in you as well, though you hide it better than others."_

_"Why did you follow him?"_ Elrond asked carefully.

"_Why_?" Fingolfin smiled, but this smile was not bitter but soft and sad. "_Is that not family does? They follow their own, to give them support or to offer them strength. And I knew better than to refuse his offer to take his quest immediately. I had thought that perhaps this would mend the rift between us."_ Fingolfin sighed. _"It was not my fault that I was born from a match he did not approve. Had I been given the choice, I certainly would not have chosen such a troublesome life, but there was beauty in it and I am glad it was not in my hands to choose."_The stone face looked up; the fragments making it seem like a shattered mask_. "You know, I have seen him laugh and smile many times, but never at us. his smiles would not reach his eyes when it came to us, but when it came to his own, his eyes would shine bright and there would be tenderness in them. but times changed and a shadow crept over him. he changed, for the worst, destroying everything he loved and cherished over the years until he himself had died. And here I am, guilty as he was but I was chosen to be saved and he is condemned to serve his time in the Halls. After the time of his return comes, then who knows? The Void or something deeper, that is not written." _Fingolfin sighed. _"I am talking in circles, I think."_

"I_t makes sense, in a way. But what he did was not your fault," _Elrond said.

_"And yet I wonder if it were fair for the both of us. Fëanor was not evil. But he was as fierce as fire, touching everything he loved and burning them. And even then, I would not blame him for it, for that was his nature."_ Fingolfin said, rising from his position and leaving the stony face on the ground. _"Call me anything, but there is always a deeper story behind ballads, myths and legends. Fëanor's spirit was strong and he became fey in the end, but I saw him smile when his sons learned different arts. Do not think me biased."_

_"Fingon has taken after you,"_ Elrond commented.

"_Indeed_," Fingolfin said, chuckling. _"I am glad."_ Fingolfin glanced once more at Fëanor's sculpture and the disembodied face.

"_Come_," Elrond said. _"The dead have gone, but the living are in need of help."_

_"Go,"_ the King said distractedly. "_I will follow."_

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

The discovery of fan fiction had brought an opening for a whole new series of jokes and pranks.

"I am coming, leggy-wuggy," Életh called out, sending laughter throughout the room.

"Do not, my dear wife," Legolas said through clenched teeth, "call me that."

"If you wish, sugar blossom," his wife replied sweetly, eyes twinkling in silent mirth. Legolas rolled his eyes at her and turned to walk away. "Oh, wait for me, pumpkin!"

"She is pushing it." Thranduil murmured to his wife, chuckling.

"You seem to have too many pairings for my comfort," Arodien said, not raising her eyes from her cellphone as she scrolled over the screen. "Thranduil and Thorin, Thranduil and Bilbo, Thranduil and Celeborn," Thranduil choked on air. "Thranduil and some half-elf or some mortal woman from Dale, Thranduil and some girl from modern age-"

Thranduil interrupted her chant by pulling her cellphone from her grasp.

"Do not," he implored. "The nausea is too much for me."

"You are also an abusive father with an angst-filled past who always and always have something against your only son or the youngest of your son, Legolas Greenleaf." Hanon said, before widening his eyes and raising his brows in pretended surprise. "Oh wait! You are not. It is just the way you are portrayed."

"Thranduil in fan fiction sounds really constipated, doesn't he?" Miranda remarked from her seat. Then she saw Thranduil's brows rise, a playful smile on his face and she burst out laughing. "I am so sorry, but he does!"

"I assure you my bowel movements is nothing to be overly concerned about."

"Thranduil!" Arodien gave a disgusted gasp, snatching her cellphone from his grasp. Thranduil was laughing too hard with the rest of them to notice.

"Armes! You spent centuries with me. Surely by now my jokes are something you have gotten used to!"

She only rolled her eyes at him, though the slight upward twitch of her lips spoke otherwise. The brief chatter was broken by a high shriek and they made it to the door to find Legolas grinning with his wife slung across his shoulder. Both of them were laughing but Életh was giving half-hearted kicks, not wanting to injure her husband but not wanting to be dropped on her head either.

"Legolas put down your wife." Thranduil said sternly, put on the best reprimanding tone he could must.

"She has been calling me endearments that are as sickly sweet as cough syrups," he retorted. "I will not stand for it."

"But lovey-poopy, I thought you loved it when I called you leggy-wuggy!" She said, pouting at him before laughing so hard that Thranduil half-feared through his own amusement that she would fall out of his grasp. Not that Legolas would allow it. His son loved his wife dearly and would suffer her no harm.

"That is it," Legolas commented, hoisting her higher. "It is off to a full bathtub with you. A drenching should cure your words."

"Legolas! You would not dare!" She shrieked, half-laughing and half-frightened. Legolas carried her carefully over his shoulders, grinning himself.

"Stop moving! I might drop you on your head!" That only made Életh gave a loud shriek and thrash.

"Don't you dare!"

"The idea is very appealing at the moment."

"You wouldn't want to face off my brother!"

"I think I can handle him."

"Oh, really? Let us not forget the quivering knees when you came to our home asking for a wedding date." Legolas scowled and turned to see his wife, who smiled sweetly as if she was not hanging off his shoulders, her hair swinging and her head nearly upside-down. Legolas turned, gently placing her back on her feet.

"Thank you," she said primly, straightening her clothes before patting down her hair.

"What for? I am still going to have my revenge."

"But-"

"I was just not going to do that to you anymore." Életh gave a shriek as he lunged for her, fleeing as he raced after him.

"Still as playful as a groom," Thranduil remarked from where he and Arodien were watching at their doorway.

"Who isn't?" She asked and he had to agree she was right.

When nighttime fell, they retired to the bed and Thranduil listened to his wife sing on his request, the room comfortable enough for him to forget his worries and burdens.

Almost.

_A child walking in the starlight…_

Thranduil sighed and buried his head in his wife's shoulder, willing her song to lull him to sleep.

The next morning, he met with Jason and Jimmy in one of the meeting rooms.

"Where's Miranda?"

"She insisted to look after Kate for us." Jason said. "Miranda said that someone ought to teach her how to protect herself and that she should do it. In other words, she twisted her way out of the meeting." Miranda hated being part of meetings though she was quite blunt to question Jason when she had to.

"So what happened?"

"We found out something related to who could have tried to influence the closing of the Warg case."

That immediately caught Thranduil's attention.

"Who was it?"

"Well, it was routed through a government official who had enough money and name to shut it down but that is not of concern. The concern is that there were a series of calls made to him and when he finally talked, he said that he had been blackmailed by someone who told him to shut down the case and put it under wraps."

"And did you get something like a description?"

"The guy never met him in person." Jimmy said. "But from the description he gave of his voice and the few foreign words he picked up and repeated for us meant that it could be an Elf."

"An Elf?" Thranduil asked. "And you got this from his voice?"

"Who else speak Quenya?"

"Quenya?" Thranduil murmured. "This is a development indeed. Though we still do not know if they are helping us or helping themselves through helping us."

"I still have a few doing their investigations," Jason said. "We need not worry about it."

"Still nothing from Dave?"

"Nothing," Jason said. "I have no idea where he has gone, whether he is alive or…"

"This isn't the longest someone has disappeared." Jimmy argued. "Some of the Fellowship have disappeared for months."

"That may be, but it does not make me happy." Jason answered.

"And what became of the UV tattoos?"

"Our branches in America are teeming with spies. Now I know how they found out about you and about us in NYC. They might have found us out during the Ukraine trip as well. The other footholds are still checking. And this reminds me, Jimmy, you need to do complete checks for some of the men I am sending to Holland. They are waiting for you in the clinic."

"I will see to them. Anything else?"

"Not from my part. Go."

"You have great trust in him." He observed once Jimmy left the room.

"I know he tends to joke a lot but he is a fine person underneath." He answered. "He might even be a fine leader if he puts his mind to it."

"That is a huge compliment." Thranduil remarked.

Jason paused.

"He is a good man," he repeated. "And he is an excellent confident. In time, he has enough to make a leader or at least a second-in-command."

Thranduil studied Jason for a while, wondering what he meant when he said Jimmy was an excellent confident and what Jason was hiding that needed to be kept in confidence, but Jason's face gave nothing away as he studiously read the reports in his hand.

Some days later, Legolas went to Toronto to oversee his wealth that was coming in by Círdan's ships.

"This is a project that will take billions upon billions of dollars." Thorontur said, laying his head on the back of his seat.

"Are you alright?" Thranduil asked.

"Fine," Thorontur rubbed his face. "It is just a headache threatening to split my skull in half."

"Take something for it."

"No, thanks. Dorián has been teasing Jimmy endlessly. He is not in a good mood." Thorontur upright his head and returned his attention to the screen. "We still have to find ourselves a place to for our stronghold."

"America?"

"Impossible," Thorontur said. "There isn't anything remotely suitable about her forests for us."

"Somewhere in Europe, then, if you are looking into our forests."

"China is a good place too."

"I cannot really imagine any of the Elves from my kingdom learning Chinese," Thranduil remarked. "And it is far too populated as it is. Also, we will stand out far too much among them."

"The last thing we could worry about is being conspicuous when it comes to war."

"Nevertheless I do not want to risk it. Keep looking somewhere in Europe."

"Wonderful," Thorontur muttered. He waved a hand when he saw Thranduil pass him a look of concern. "Do not worry about me. I am just a bit irritable at the moment. My head is killing me." Thorontur paused, his face growing more serious. "How does your Ring fare?"

Thranduil looked down at Húro. The Ring had been oddly quiet. 'Snoozing' would be a term Thranduil would use. The visions did not plague him as much as they did before, but they came and repeated themselves but the headache had usually faded to a distant throb, to the point that Thranduil could sometimes ignore or even forget it.

"Strangely quiet," Thranduil said aloud. "I do not know why but I think I am thankful for it."

Thorontur studied him.

"You have grown stronger." The Elf said at last. "I can see it in your eyes. I think the Ring has found its match in you."

"That is good to hear."

"You are still pitifully weak," Thorontur continued, ruining any warm feelings Thranduil was having towards his long-time advisor as well as for himself.

"I never liked you," Thranduil muttered at him. Thorontur shot him a severe look.

"You are weak," he said. "Admit it. The strength you once possessed back when you were king in Eryn Lasgelen is far superior to the one you have now. you became lax over the years you spent in Aman, and the lack of extensive fighting in this age has not helped, though you kept yourself fit. But remember 'fit' will not help you even the slightest when there is a war."

Thranduil's frown faded as he mulled over Thorontur's words, the advisor busy tapping away over his laptop. He was right, Thranduil knew. And there was another thing that troubled him much. Oromë's warning from Mirny echoed in his mind.

"I am having visions." Thranduil said. Thorontur's hands stilled and he looked up from his laptop.

"From the Ring?"

"Yes."

"What kind?"

"Not all of them are detailed. Mostly they are images… fleeting. And some of them are changing."

Thorontur stayed quiet for a long time.

"What should I do?" Thranduil asked finally. For all their jests, he valued Thorontur's friendship and his advice. The older Elf had good deduction.

"I do not know." Thorontur said finally. "To bear a Ring of Power is only to be related by someone who has borne a Ring of Power. I do not know what advice to give to you, except that do not disregard the visions. They will hold truth for the time that comes."

Thranduil remained still before nodding slowly. Only time would tell.

Nearly a week passed by when Jason waylaid Thranduil in his path.

"There is a missive." Jason said. "It is from Oromë. And it is for you."

Thranduil frowned and reached to accept the missive from Jason's offered hand. He straightened the scroll and looked down at the elegant scrawl of handwriting.

_'Tirion has been hit. Seek a stronghold in Redwood.'_

"Redwood?" Thranduil asked, looking up from the missive when they both returned to the control room. "Does anyone know what that is?"

Arodis swirled in her chair towards her laptop, hands flying over the keyboard.

"Err, there is a lot of places with that name…" She scrolled. "There is Redwood Forest."

"Where?"

"UK," she answered. "Take a look."

Thranduil looked at the map and something tugged at the strings of his heart.

"We have to go there."

"Thranduil-"

"No, we have to. Come on!"

oOo

_Redwood,_

_United Kingdom._

"Since when do you possess the streak of impulsiveness?" Thorontur muttered. He frowned and looked up. "Sunny England is not always sunny."

"England and United Kingdom are two different things." Thranduil answered, not paying him much heed. "Anything I should know about this forest?"

"It is sometimes used for camping during summer." Thorontur said. "But it is not used too often and has not history attached to it. Not that the Brits do not have any as it," he muttered that last bit under his breath. Thranduil rolled his eyes before pressing the button of the comm. link. "Ignore Thorontur, Hilary." He told the British woman who was keeping in touch with them for Jason's sake. "He is not in a good move."

"Of course, I am not."

"You do not like the place?"

"No, I do. But I am cold."

"A case of old age, then." He heard Hilary give soft laugh.

He pressed his hand against the bark of a tree. It hummed at him. This forest was… alive and free. Oromë made a good choice.

Thranduil was instantly in love with the place.

"This is it." He murmured, pressing his hand on the ground and letting the soil sift through his fingers. "I can feel it."

_Arodien dancing with the Ellyth under a field of stars… Fire rising in the nighttime sky…_

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

"Exactly how do you plan to keep a stronghold there?" Jason asked.

He had already explained the perfect position of the place, especially the presence of the mountain range beside the forest and the running river through it. They had already decided to place enchantments and charms to protect them from being seen and from any contact from others but Thranduil had to admit neither he nor the other Elves gave it much thought.

"MI6 gets on your tail-" Jason continued.

"We will deal with that later." Thranduil interrupted. He refused to ruin the state of his happiness at the moment.

"You didn't think this through, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't." Thranduil admitted.

"Tree-huggers," Jason muttered.

"American," Thranduil answered.

"Now that was just plain rude." Jason said, eyes twinkling in rare mirth.

Thranduil smirked.

"Hanon said he had something for you, and he said to give him the time when you have some. It was important, he said."

"I will go and find him." Jason and he never saw eye to eye in the beginning but things were starting to smooth over. They had different approaches to a problem, so they simply let one or the other to make the decisions, avoiding arguments, though not to the point of endangering anything from lives or plans. Thranduil managed to corner Hanon, who asked Legolas to join them as well. He told them that Nimon, who had gone to investigate Kate's father's 'accident' returned. It turned out to be no accident and it was a murder from an old friend.

"What happened to this friend?"

"Brian," Hanon answered. "That was his name. He died a day later after Nimon made the connection."

"That cannot be a coincidence."

"It wasn't. And searching Brian's house helped Nimon finding this." He showed them a beaten journal, the pages apart from use. "It was her father's and it speaks of her lineage. There is no doubt from here, at least, that she is the descendant from Aragorn."

"Then there is no coincidence that we found her now, and she was led here and us finding her. There is a role for her to play."

"Question is if she is willing to play it."

"I could go." Legolas volunteered. "I could talk to her. I knew Aragorn. I would be able to handle telling her everything."

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

Legolas chose the gallery to tell her everything. Kate had stood across him, staring at him dumbly as he spoke. When he finished, she remained very still before finally swallowing.

"So what should I do?" Kate said. He could detect the barest of quiver in her voice. He wondered how she was feeling. Her family, most definitely killed. Stuck in this place where she did not belong. She did not seem to be waiting for an answer.

"What were they like?" she asked, gesturing at the painting of Amrothos and Faramir standing side by side.

"Well," Legolas spoke, only to buy him some time as he thought. "Both of them were great Men, and very dear friends. Faramir was strong, but he had a quiet personality, gleaned from his mother as the elder had said. He was thoughtful, and once you befriend him, he was a good friend to have."

"And Amrothos?"

"Amrothos was…different." Legolas thought back of his sophisticated friend, so easy in grace and comfortable in the Gondorian court. "He was highly unpopular for once," catching Kate's confused look, he added, "Amrothos believed that the Men should befriend the Haradrim in the new Age in order for peace to prosper. His views were highly criticized."

"Surely his family agreed with him."

"They did, but politics is a hard matter. He was unmarried when I met him."

"And that was odd?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

He gestured at Amrothos' arm that was not locked around Faramir's shoulders. He held a staff in the other hand, slightly shorter than his shoulder, of polished black wood of some kind.

"He was maimed in battle. It was a severe wound in his leg that had inflamed and caused him to lose much of his flesh in his thigh. He walked with a limp and he had a firm belief that no lady would actually look at him, though he was not bad in looks. Also, his position in court made his life in constant danger. For that I commend his wife, who was among the bravest women I knew in that time. But do not underestimate him. I had witnessed him fight in dire circumstances and he was good at it. Evidently he learned a way around his weakness."

"That is difficult to do."

"Often the unlikeliest calamities can strengthen you."

Legolas looked at Kate, who seemed more subdued. She swallowed.

"What is my purpose here?"

"I do not know."

"Do you know yours?"

"You alone can make your purpose. I am here to serve my father and lead the men he assigns me. If you are asking about destiny or fate, I do not know either. It will become clear in time. For now, just strive to learn how to fight. You will need to know for the coming war."

"So there is a war?"

"Yes." He answered. "There is no denying it."

Kate turned away, but he did not miss the trembling of her chin.

"I am scared." Kate said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I know." Legolas answered. "I think, considering what is to come, we all are."

oOo

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

"I wanted to talk to you about Húro." Hanon said one day when he and Noron met with Thranduil.

"What is it?"

"You said so yourself that Húro was hard to control."

"It is."

"Do you think you could control it?"

"I know I can." Thranduil replied. "But it will need practicing."

"Then we will help."

At first he thought Hanon was joking. But Hanon and Noron looked serious.

"You cannot be serious!" He exclaimed baffled.

"I could not be more serious."

"I-I- the Ring is far too dangerous!"

"All the more reason to learn to harness it then."

Unable to argue further, Thranduil relented. They chose an unused, and unfurnished room in the basement, where they knew no one else could come to harm.

"And try not to destroy my family's manor. I don't want to fall into earth unexpectedly one day." Jason had called after them.

That had, in no way, lightened Thranduil's already growing concern.

Thranduil governed Húro's power leashing it till he set up his defenses. Hanon hurtled back, slamming against the pillar before crumpling to the ground. Immediately Thranduil lowered his shields.

"Hanon!" He cried as both he and Noron hastened towards him. Hanon rolled over, laughing breathlessly as he did so.

"I wouldn't want to be in anyone's shoes if your temper is invoked, Sire." Hanon remarked as Noron helped him sit up. "I am fine," he smacked Noron's hands away. "Do not give that look, my former apprentice. I have faced far serious things then slamming into a hard obstacle."

"You have grown strong." Noron commented. "Good. We need a strong king."

Winter had come, and soon spring was at hand. The lands Thranduil had chosen was fit for their use and purpose but the details were something they needed to take care of carefully, but it was nothing they could do in the winter. Mirny was facing too many snowstorms and they could not travel there and no plans could be made for winter. They had to wait for the snows to melt.

"I received word from Mithon." Legolas said, grinning broadly. "Melion is doing extremely well. He has gained weight and now he is gaining his strength. The retired Fellowship have been a great help."

"No doubt a different place from all this stress did good as well." Thranduil answered. "Send him my regards."

"He asks permission to return to his duties."

"Denied," Thranduil replied immediately. "Not until his son makes full recovery. Then he can ask for his position."

That same evening, Jason voiced his fears.

"Why is it so quiet?" Jason asked frowning.

"Is it?"

"It is." He confirmed. "For nearly a year we have been in this constant cycle of fleeing, settling, and fighting and now there is just… silence. and I have not yet heard of either Dave or Alice." He straightened, shaking his head. "This is just not natural."

It had put them on end, knowing that the enemy was still out there. But it would be a lie if they had denied the silence was very much welcomed.

In the coming of January, when the heaters were on their highest, they managed to squeeze into one of the larger rooms that had a TV set for a marathon of movies.

"We might as well see what monstrosity they had invented." Thorontur commented wearily sitting down at the foot of a chair on which Fion was lounging. "Somebody keep the remote in hand. We might need to forward parts which we cannot tolerate."

A debate followed before the Hobbit trilogy finally won over, and the Elves sat into their comfortable perches for it. Kate had insisted to join them, curious to see their reactions and this was something that placed Thranduil in a worry.

They made some exclamations during the movie, commenting on what was right and what was not until the scene rolled past of the Dwarves fleeing the Mountain.

Thranduil burst out laughing.

"I am riding a moose!"

"That's an elk!" Fion protested, laughing so hard that he barely made the words out. The Silvan Elves were much freer in words than the rest of their kin, so there were waves of laughter at the scene.

"I will call it a moose."

"Technically, it is Lee Pace riding an elk." Thorontur pointed out, grinning. But Thranduil was too busy laughing.

"Ah, good grief, this is good comedy."

They had to pause or stop the movies, alternating between forwarding out of boredom or watching with interest. Sometimes they even forgot about the movie, chatting idle amongst themselves. Kate entered on the invitation from Arodien, declaring she was much curious to see their reaction to the movies. DVDs changed and there was silence as the scenes rolled on.

"WHO IS TAURIEL?"

"I did not have a female Captain of the Guard!" Thranduil said. "I do not even remember whether we did have a Captain of the Guard!"

"It is often the sign of old age," Thorontur said gravely, making everyone laugh.

"The joke is on you Thorontur, considering you are older than I. I completely agree with your statement." Thranduil's mock-solemn words brought another ripple of laughter through the room.

"I was not in a love triangle!" Legolas said, hastily when Életh raised a brow at him. "Honest!"

"This is not in the books." Kate told them, grinning.

"Small blessing," Thranduil grumbled. "Wait, I do NOT move like that. I do not even talk like that!"

"When you are addressing distant foreigners, you do." Fion said from his perch.

"I do NOT!"

"And you always raise your eyes that way," he pointed out, gesturing at him. Thranduil scowled, feeling Arodien's frame shake over him in mirth.

One night, they managed to buy the last of the Hobbit trilogy, sitting together as they watched.

"I have a bad feeling for this already." Thranduil grumbled. Neither he, nor Hanon, and definitely not Noron were in good moods. Their heads ached; their bodies ached from the vigorous training they had gone through earlier in the day. They sat limply beside their wives, though Hanon's wife was in Valinor so he lounged beside Nimon.

"I have come to claim what is mine." Lee Pace said on the screen.

"Seriously? I have a fight with the Dwarves because they withheld a necklace of my wife which was the only thing I had of her?" Arodien shook with laughter beside them. The movies had been both humorous and appalling. The scenes rolled on along with their running commentary. Suddenly the door banged open, and they jumped. Miranda strode in.

"Turn that off." Miranda ordered.

"Wait," Thranduil said, prolonging the word as he raised a finger in the air. "I am currently facing off Gandalf, something I always wanted to do in real life."

"I am not joking!" Miranda snapped. Her voice made them all start. Looking up, Miranda's face looked drawn and pale. "Something has happened in NYC!"

She scrambled for the remotes from Fion, who immediately surrendered them. Fumbling a bit, she finally switched on a channel for them to watch. Thranduil rose, forcing Arodien to lift from his chest.

"We repeat, there has been a kidnapping of a little girl, six years in age, the daughter of a Homicide Detective Riley Jackson," Thranduil's heart dropped, and he straightened, facing the screen intently. It cannot be, let it not be true. But Dawn's picture appeared on the screen, laughing as she held her favorite toy pony in her hand. "Dawn Jackson, a six year old girl with blond hair and blue eyes, last seen wearing a pink Barbie shirt and blue pants with light blue crocks in the backyard of her house…"

"Snatched from her own backyard," Arodien whispered. The room had fallen deathly silent.

"Detective Jackson had nearly lost his partner against crime, Detective Lee Kraft, who later resigned under what is now considered to be suspicious reasons as he is nowhere to be found and is considered to be missing. The pair had been investigating a series of killings related to paw-prints and strange writings written in the victims' blood, a case that had been closed and recently reopened and is suspected to be related to both the missing Detective and child-"

"This is why they were so silent." Miranda said. Thranduil closed his eyes briefly, tuning out the rest of the news caster's words. "They were planning. Oh, I did not think-"

"We have a recent development in the case." If it were possible, the news reporter sounded much grimmer than before. "A picture has been sent to the worried parents, of the child and the NYPD have approved for the picture to become public. Be forewarned, it is not for the faint of heart."

What came next made nearly all of them to recoil in shock, and Thranduil's heart twisted in fury and fear. Miranda swore under her breath, turning her face away but Thranduil kept looking at the screen, bile rising in his throat. It was Dawn, but she looked more like a ragged doll than the happy child who used to follow him or play in his apartment when her parents would visit. On her forehead was a cruel carving of a singular Sindarin word, _Aran _or 'king'- a mockery of Thranduil's title.

"Thranduil," he did not wait to hear the rest of Arodien's words as he got up from his seat, storming down the hallway till he reached the control room. Miranda sprinted after him.

"Have they contacted us?" Thranduil asked Jason, who was standing there. Judging from the grim look on his face, Jason already knew.

"They would in a moment, now that we have found out."

One of the phones rang, and Thranduil picked it up.

"To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?" An unfamiliar voice sounded in his ear. It was sickly pleasant, and with unmarked danger. Thranduil instinctively knew here this was a Man who had no conscience.

"You are speaking to Thranduil Oropherion." He did not use his title, not without poor Dawn's image appearing in his mind.

"Oropherion," the voice drawled. "You are a hard Elf to catch."

"What do you want?"

The man 'tsked', sounding disappointed but there was a leer in his tone.

"You are such a naughty Elf. Look what I had to do to get your attention." Thranduil swallowed with great difficulty. Húro raged but it was nothing compared to the dark, burning anger rising deep inside him.

"You did this to her?"

"Now we have tight schedule-"

"Did you?" Dimly he noticed Jason gesture at the others to lock onto the caller's location.

"Now, now, that would be telling, don't you think so?" The Man laughed, cold and cruel.

"Who are you?"

"They call me Wolf, because I like to hunt down my prey." Thranduil smiled mirthlessly, and Jason glanced at him only to recoil. In front of Jason was not the Elf who he knew. It was a King, fierce to protect his own, and just as merciless to anything that threatened his own. But Thranduil seemed very, very cold.

"You know what they call me?" Thranduil said on the phone.

"What?" Wolf sneered.

"Thranduil Oropherion," he answered. "For I need no other name to define me."

One of the women gestured, indicating she pinpointed the location.

"When I am going to find you, you will know a world of pain." Thranduil growled.

"Come and find us then." Wolf drawled. One of the Men gestured at them, signaling that they have the location and just then, Wolf's line cut off. Silence followed.

"He waited," Jason said grimly, breaking the silence. "He kept the call going long enough for us to lock on to his position. He wants us there."

"It is a trap." Miranda warned, quietly but clearly.

"Like Hell it isn't," Thranduil muttered, borrowing Riley's words.

"Riley; I am bringing him and his family in." Jason said. "This might not turn out so well."

Thranduil glanced at him, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart and the rushing of blood he could hear in his ears, but to no avail. He only turned and walked out.

"You could kill yourself out there," he found, to his annoyance, Miranda following him. "It is a trap and you know it."

"I am going, Miranda."

"We will send a team-"

"I am going, whether you like it or not." He tuned Miranda's protests out of his mind as he returned to the TV room, where everyone were still sitting, unable to move as they continued to stare at the news.

_A coin flipped in the air, the sunset alternating with the beech tree…_

Thranduil's heart sank. It was not sunset. It was sunrise. The breaking of dawn.

"If you have just tuned in to our news, then we will repeat; a six-year-old, daughter of a Homicide Detective went missing from the backyard of her home. Her picture is on the screen, blond haired and blue-eyed with a birthmark on her left elbow. She has been missing for nearly three days, with no clue as to who it could have been. Rumors have it this may related to a case of two murder victims with mysterious paw print designs that do not seem to have come from any known or common animal." The female anchor stopped speaking and male anchor took over. "This young girl has been missing for nearly three days, folks, and she is the daughter of a Homicide Detective Riley Jackson, who lost his partner Homicide Detective Lee Kraft a few months back, who is presumed dead or missing. Whether or not Lee Kraft had any associations with the forces that took this little girl, it remains to be seen." He looked around. Legolas, Thorontur, Fion and all the other Elves looked back at him seriously. Gone was the laughter, and the Rangers and Warriors of Eryn Lasgelen took their places. All of them were ready, and all of them were dangerous.

He turned to the TV screen; the volume now muted as Dawn's smiling face stared back at him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_Grey Havens,_

_Canada._

They were speaking in raised voices.

"Somebody puts some sense in him." Miranda said, angrily waving a hand towards Thranduil.

"If anyone even thinks he or she could keep me here, they are well mistaken." Thranduil answered coldly.

"Father-"

"Legolas, I will here no word of this. My decision is made and I am not turning my back to it."

"Oropher and his line, always so stubborn," Thorontur breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. But Thranduil and Legolas remained silent, glaring at one another. Of all the people in the room, only Jason and Arodien were quiet, watching the events unfold without a single comment.

"Thranduil," Fion began but Thranduil glared at him and he fell silent. Mostly, the others would question him but he was rarely ever this driven, this furious or determined. He wouldn't budge, and they knew it.

"I think he should go." Arodien commented softly.

"Mother-"

"I am well aware this is a trap." She interrupted. "And I know for certainty that Thranduil knows as well. But what further will they do to the poor girl if he does not come? Will they kill her on the spot? Will they hide her or run away with her? Will we find her again? We cannot take that risk!"

"But-"The protest came this time from Thorontur and she fixed her cool blue eyes on him.

"Do not tell me you prize your king's life more than an innocent child's." It was cruel of her to say so, she knew. But someone had to speak sense, and often sense was not the sweetest of medicine. Thorontur ducked his head in shame and made no reply.

"I agree with her." Jason spoke, ignoring his sister's frustrated sigh. "Thranduil should go but not alone."

"I am coming with." Miranda spoke before shaking a finger towards Thranduil. "And I am not taking no for an answer."

"I wasn't planning to." Thranduil answered; flashing her brief smile before a frown darkened his features as it had since he heard of Dawn's kidnapping.

"Jimmy is going with you as well."

"I could come," Hanon began but Thranduil cut him off.

"Absolutely not," Thranduil answered firmly. "I will need you and Noron for Redwood and I cannot afford to lose either of you. And you are not coming too." He added when he saw Legolas open his mouth.

"Your father is right," Arodien spoke. "He cannot have his heir accompany him in the same dangerous location. If you are separated or should anything else happen, either of you could be used as leverage."

"I could come along." Fion spoke.

"You are staying to look after my wife and make sure my son does not try anything as foolish as following me. Do not give me that look." Thranduil said irritably at his son. "I know you well enough, boy, to know when there is a plan forming in your head."

"Nimon could go." Hanon said. Thranduil considered it and nodded. "Fine, he could come."

Later, they discussed where the transmission came from.

"Southern Rocky Mountains," Jason said. "I am guessing it was some cave. I would tell you to be careful. The place is covered in snow, and there will be clear skies. Any movement will be tracked."

"They wouldn't bait us just to kill us." Nimon interjected.

"No, but Wolf seems the sort to paw with his food first before eating them."

"Well, he would find Elves to be a tough morsel to swallow." Thranduil muttered.

"I imagine so. But no reckless moves. They will try to draw you in. They will try to bait you further. Do not fall for it."

In a matter of a few hours, they had booked a flight for USA and left, the movie forgotten and pushed aside, and much more important mission taking its place.

oOo

_Southern Rocky Mountains,_

_USA._

"This is a natural cave." Thranduil murmured. "They only worked on it."

"Hostiles up ahead." Jimmy said. He pulled out a grenade and threw it in the air. They heard a shout and a blast, the cave rattling from the explosion.

"JIMMY!" Miranda roared.

"What? I got rid of them.

"The walls could give in!"

"Relax. The grenade's not that strong."

Jimmy's voice was hardly reassuring.

"Come on; let's see what damage the fool caused."

They entered a large room and were instantly rained upon by bullets, against which they immediately took cover. They returned fire; the men that fell did not rise again.

"Thranduil Oropherion!" The shout made him look up. A burly man stood, grinning at him like he was some form of a friend. He spread his arms wide and gave a mocking bow. "Aran Thranduil Oropherion! So you come at last."

Wolf, it could only be him. He recognized that voice. Wolf smiled at him before turning and leaving the corridor.

"I want you all to look clear out the area and look for Dawn." Thranduil said. "Wolf is mine."

Miranda tried to protest but he did not listen to her. He pushed forward, downing the enemies in his path. They were well-prepared, he realized. But then, Nimon and Thranduil were no Men.

He sprinted through the maze of the corridors until he heard labored breathing. He spotted Wolf fleeing and he caught up, the rage pumping adrenaline into him and he grabbed Wolf around the middle. They rolled together, and he pulled free, kicking Wolf in the gut before getting up and stepping back. Wolf began to rise and Thranduil pulled out his gun, pointing it at the man.

Thranduil regarded the man before him in unveiled disgust. Wolf was bulky, looking more like a thug than he did as a man of military. The scar on his face marred his features, twisting his sneer more so.

"Come on, eh?" Wolf drawled at him, raising up his arms. "Shoot me. Go on. Do it."

Thranduil raised his gun but did not shoot.

"I did it to her, you know. Took a knife. It was easy, but the letters were hard to remember. Himben helped me with that, did you know? You must be so weak to not be able to lead your people strongly enough if they are joining our cause." With each statement, Thranduil's hand shook harder but his aim was unwavering, he knew. He shifted his finger to the trigger.

_Wolf crawling on the floor, a hand of an unseen figure pointing a gun at him…_

Thranduil lowered his gun. Wolf sneered at him.

"Just as I thought. You are weak!"

"It is not about weakness." Thranduil spoke quietly. "You will die, but not by my hand. I will not deprive the other man of the pleasure." He stepped back. "Go, but remember, a lone wolf is hunted more easily than a wolf in a pack." The pitiful man snarled at him before making his escape.

"You will regret it, Elf-king! Mark my words!"

"I know," he said, his voice barely heard. "But I do not think I would as much as you would." But Wolf was gone. He heard a short call from Jimmy on the comm. link.

"Thranduil, we found her. In the cells, left from the main room," Jimmy said. Thranduil answered affirmative and glanced once at the yawning, dark corridor. Wolf would send some men from here, he knew. He did not know how many. They did not have much time.

Racing back, he found Jimmy and Nimon in a cell. Nimon was standing guard, but Jimmy was sitting on the floor. Across him, a young girl in ragged clothing stuck to the corner, crying.

"My dear, please, I am here to help." Jimmy tried to persuade her, standing some distance apart, hand stretched out but making no move to get her. she only cried harder.

"Dawn?"

His voice made her instantly look up, and he felt his stomach turn over at the sight of the poorly healing wound over her head and her frightened blue eyes. That was one look he never wanted to see in her eyes.

"Hey," he reached out with a hand, coming closer to her than Jimmy dared, but kneeling there in hopes of letting her come to him. "It's me. It's Lee."

"Uncle?"

"Yes, it's me. It's ok. You are safe now." His heart thudded, hoping she would come, because he honestly did not know what else to do. Much to his relief, she scrambled up to him, throwing her arms around his neck in a chokehold that made it difficult for him to breathe but he did not complain. Dawn probably needed the hug.

"Dawn, I need to know if you are ok to leave this place. Can you lie still please? I will be here the whole time. Nothing is gonna happen, ok?"

It hurt to see Dawn trust him so much. She was so young. She did not suspect a thing, nor understand what was happening.

Aside from the bruising and the cruel cut over her forehead she appeared fine, if but her eyes. Her eyes were wide, showing too much whites and she was clearly traumatized. Something did not seem right. Here she was, the first blood so easily spilled, but Wolf simply left?

"Poor little one," he murmured. "I am here. I am going to take you back home, you hear? You are going to go home."

His small talk managed to ease her breathing and she looked less frightened than before.

"Alright, she is good to move. I will examine her more when we get on the copter."

"My chest hurts." Dawn murmured. Jimmy was instantly alert.

"Does it?"

Dawn was just about to reply but the shooting drowned it. She gave a shriek, clutching onto Thranduil's shirt.

"We have to get out of here." He muttered. He spoke on the comm. link. "Miranda, we have to move before this gets out of hand."

"You think?" Miranda gave a snarky reply. He eased himself out of Dawn's stranglehold, being as gentle as he could.

"I am here," he soothed. He made her look into his eyes, so that she could see his honesty. "I am not going to leave you. Nimon here is my friend. He is going to carry you, alright? I will be by your side."

"_Cover her," _he told Nimon. _"She is not to see any of the shooting. And stay at the back and let us clear the area."_

Nimon took off his coat and covered her with it, carrying her in his arms and tucking her head underneath his neck. They came outside the cell and saw a large number of men shooting towards them.

"Thranduil, use Húro!" Miranda said.

He took shelter behind a large metal crate.

Húro unleashed itself, destroying the floor of the cave and slamming all their enemies against the walls.

"Take them out." Miranda called. They began their shooting, catching the opponents by surprise. They edged closer to the exit, all of them meeting there. Miranda was missing two of her men for which she shook her head.

"Break down the exit." Miranda called. "I want them to think twice before using this cave ever again. Ralph! You better be ready!"

Only after they managed to get onto the copter did they all breathe a sigh of relief.

"It hurts! It hurts too much." She babbled through her sobs.

"Jimmy," he said. The man reached forward. Dawn tried to resist, but Jimmy had no intentions of relieving Thranduil of his burden.

"Sweetie, sweetie, easy there," Jimmy called out. His eyes met Thranduil's, both of them noting Dawn's excessive fear around men. It made Thranduil almost regret letting Wolf go. Jimmy took eased her shirt up, both of them noting the discoloration. Jimmy paled.

"What happened?"

"Internal bleeding," Jimmy said. "She is bleeding into her abdomen." The 'bruising' covered nearly her entire side. He noticed Jimmy had fallen extremely silent.

"Maybe an Elven healer could have done more-"Jimmy began.

"You place far too much trust in our Race. There are some things that even we are not able to do." That much Thranduil was certain. Even Elves could not heal her without aid.

Dawn was crying hysterically, the sound sickening. He smoothed a hand over her head, trying to console her.

"I have given her something for the pain."

"And there is nothing-"Thranduil looked down at the child in his arms and swallowed. "There is nothing you could do?"

Jimmy shook his head.

"How long?"

"She must have been bleeding for a while. Not long now."

Dawn's crying lessened over the long minutes, stretched cruelly before them. The thought of the girl dying weighed heavily on Thranduil's mind, the guilt and the anger against himself not abating. She was barely moving, but he knew she was awake, in her numbed state to protect her from the pain.

He stroked the child's cheek absentmindedly, wondering if Húro could be used for healing. It served to protect and to defend, an offence and a defense after all. But Húro seemed not too keen. It was there to protect a kingdom, to protect people, not just one person. As if recognizing his thoughts, Miranda touched his shoulder and he turned his head slightly towards her.

"Let her go." Miranda murmured in his ear. "The world that is coming is not fit for her to live in. She is better off. She will feel no pain."

Thranduil felt burning behind his eyes but he forced it down. Resting one hand over Dawn's head, he stroked her hair, as he had seen Riley and Cassie do. The thought of the worried parents drove him into a new phase of guilt. His heart constricted and suddenly a longing erupted in his heart; the Sea. A place to forget his fears, his grief and worries, but he forced it down.

"Go to sleep, Dawn."

"Wanna go home…"

"I know." Thranduil clenched his teeth.

_And you should have been home, not here in this dark place…_

"You will be there soon."

_What a lie…_

How much time passed, none of them knew. But it was only marked when he felt Dawn become heavy in his arms and her hands slowly grow cold clutching to the fingers of his one hand. Jimmy only briefly came forward to check her and then shook his head.

"She is gone."

Miranda tried to relieve him of his burden but he refused, his mind growing numb by the realization. He gathered her close, resting his chin over her head.

Nimon started to sing quietly, jolting all of them from their thoughts. Thranduil heard it and nearly cried. It was a lament, sung long ago in the Second Age when evil had first entered Greenwood the Great. A group of children had been playing in what should have been a safe clearing, safe because of the sentries that should have been posted there. But there had been no sentries then. The lament was from a soldier, begging the dead children to return, to forgive him. Clearing his throat, he joined him, singing note to note, until Miranda spoke.

"Hey, Ralph!" She called for the pilot. "As soon as it is safe, we have to land. There is a body for us to bury."

Thranduil's song faltered and he laid his head back and wept.

oOo

_Aman._

"_Oromë," _Oropher greeted the Vala with surprise. _"This is unexpected. I did not know you were coming."_

"_I bring some news for you." _Oromë glanced at Oropher's wife, who sat with her embroidery in her lap, looking at him seriously. _"You will not need to protect your house with such scrutiny any longer."_

"_This is a strange tiding you brought for me. What makes you say that?"_

"_The first blood has been spilled." _Oromë answered.

"_Whose?" _Oropher asked, face paling just as his wife's had. _"Legolas? Arodien?"_

"_Nay, a child of Men, a daughter of a Man your son had befriended. Of all the people, she was the easiest target."_

"_How is he?"_

"_I do not know. But after this, I do not doubt he would be much changed."_

oOo

_Private Jet,_

_Skies._

He couldn't take his eyes off the bead bracelet in his hand. It was too small, fitting in the palm of his hand. He didn't know why he took it, but he did, and now the bright colors of pink and orange beads stared back at him. The thought of Riley weighed on his mind and he wondered briefly what was going to happen. Riley would hate him forever, Thranduil thought bitterly. The couple loved their daughter dearly. And the twins were protective of their sister, in spite of them being children. He closed his fist around the bracelet, the beads digging into his palm, and squeezed his eyes shut. Every detail now burdened him immensely. Riley, Dawn, the mess they were in, the upcoming battles, Húro and everything else. The future had so much in store and it was simply too much.

He just wanted to sleep.

It was Nimon who first noticed Thranduil slump into his seat.

"My lord?" he asked, hastening to him. He shook the King's shoulders, noting with alarm the shallow and slow breath and the colder touch of his skin.

"What's wrong?" Jimmy asked, getting up from his seat as well. Nimon glanced at him, half-stricken.

"He is Fading."

oOo

_Halls of Mandos,_

_Aman._

The Halls were made of polished black marble, the lanterns burning white and throwing ghostly light across the Halls. He had never set foot in this place, but he heard enough stories from the Elves who were reborn to know where he was.

"Why have you brought me here?" He asked, turning to Mandos. The Lord of the Dead was pale-skinned, cool eyes staring into his own, his hands clasped behind his back. His black robes were embroidered in silver thread, a silver decorated hilt of a sword peeking from the cloak he was wearing.

"You were Fading."

"The Elves who Fade have a choice. You gave me none." Thranduil spoke.

"Times are different." Mandos answered. "The choice is no longer yours."

"There must be a reason as to why?"

"I was ordered to show you something."

"Really? And why?"

Mandos turned, ignoring his question.

"Will you follow me?"

"Where would you take me?"

"Will you follow me?" Mandos repeated.

Thranduil stared at Mandos' back before taking a step towards him. He was led through the corridors, all of them made of black marble, though the tapestries woven by Vairë decorated them. He had heard tales, how the Halls seemed so cold and unwelcoming but for the dead, there was warmth and life and merrymaking. Finally, Mandos stopped in front of a Hall, the firelight coming from it casting the Vala's face in a reddish tone. He silently gestured at Thranduil, indicating him to look. Mandos was never known to speak freely, or to show emotion freely.

He looked at Mandos cautiously but the Vala's face gave nothing away. So he stepped forward gingerly towards the open doors of the hall, noting the carvings of horses made on the wooden doors that opened outward.

The first thing he felt was the warm heat of the fire, and then he smelled the homely scents of warm food wafting to him. for even the fëa needed nourishment. But the hall was not empty, but full of people dressed in finery of gold and green, the banners of a single white horse running across a plane of green field visible to his eyes. The symbol of Rohan.

He glanced once at Mandos, wondering what he had to do with the dead from the Rohirrim or of Rohirric origins, but the Lord of the Dead stood silently, his cold eyes watching him. So he turned his attention back to the people. He watched them laughing and speaking amongst themselves, not noticing the pair standing just outside the threshold of the hall. Perhaps the dead among the Men could not see them, for to them nothing existed beyond the halls of their forefathers. Here there was a brief respite for them, some stayed longer and others much shorter. All the grown men and women were young, their reasons of death not apparent to him, but he saw a few children here and there, who died untimely deaths. One such child caught his sight.

Dawn was wearing a sleeveless summer dress that reached her knees, feet dangling from where she sat on a young Rider's lap, blonde curls tumbling over her shoulders. Her skin was unmarked from the hardships she suffered and her smile was evident as she listened to the young Rider play his flute for her amusement.

If he could cry, he would have. The little one was his friend's only and dearest daughter. And he had failed her and Riley as well. But here she was safe.

"The halls of her forefathers," Mandos spoke, breaking his thoughts. Thranduil struggled to compose himself. "You suspected their Rohirric origins."

"It was a brief guess, yes."

Amongst the laughter, he heard her laughter as well, and he unconsciously made a step towards the hall, wanting to enter it. The last time he held her was in his arms, dying. To see the child so alive made his heart considerably lighter. Mandos' hand clamped around his arm in an iron grip.

"Stay," he commanded. "The Race of Men and Elves cannot mingle in the Halls. You cannot enter her forefathers' hall. You know this."

And here he realized that it was true. The paths have deviated. He stepped back, away from the warmth beckoning him.

"Why have you shown me this?"

"I was commanded to." Mandos answered. "It was to give you hope. And to bring relief to your grief. Has it done so?"

"A bit," Thranduil said after a pause. "What do I do now?"

"If you wish to Fade, then you will come here, and remain here until the world ends and the fate of it is decided. Or you could go back, and be a difference."

"The paths are weary to tread."

"You could not expect anything else."

Thranduil sighed.

"You are going?"

"I am needed."

Thranduil paused before leaving. "There is another reason you have brought me here, is there not?"

"Is there?"

"Yes. Personally, you brought me here to test me. You wanted to see if I was weak enough to return to the Halls or strong enough to go back. But I was brought here also and shown Dawn in her halls while you would have not given this luxury to anyone else, in hopes that I would keep my allegiance to the Valar." Mandos' lips brought a ghost of a smile. Thranduil frowned.

"I am not a pawn to be used." He said. "Keep that in mind."

"You never were, Oropherion. You are a King. I hope you know what that means."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Thanks to Guest, Lotrlover222, and Lisa for their reviews. :)


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

_Private Jet,_

_Skies._

"Are you sure you are alright?" Miranda pressed.

Thranduil sat, wrapped in blankets. He shot her an annoyed look.

"I am fine." He said. "Stop treating me like I am an invalid!"

Nimon passed him a concerned look but wisely said nothing. Instead, both Nimon and Jimmy curled up close by and fell asleep. Nimon, he suspected, was not asleep, but the younger Elf was far too polite to show it otherwise. Miranda sat opposite to him, curled in a blanket and holding a cup of coffee in her hand.

"I saw her," Thranduil said, breaking the silence. "Apparently, the Vala showed me her so that I would choose not to Fade."

"Did you want to Fade?"

"A part of me did, I think. Else I would not have."

"Did you ever Fade before?"

"At my father's death, I was close."

"But not at your mother's?"

"I never had the time to properly grieve for mother. Father was wounded and I had to look after him. And then there was the War of Wrath and well, the years simply passed by."

Silence settled between them.

"When my father died," Miranda spoke. "My mother used to take us close together and console us. she would tell us how the dead leave behind this world. She used to say that, this body is nothing more than a house for the spirit. When the spirit leaves it, it no longer knows any pain from the body. It is free."

"Your mother is wise," Thranduil commented before sighing and resting his head back against his seat. "The Gift of Men! It is said that before the end, it will the Gift that we will envy the most."

To that, Miranda knew no reply.

oOo

_Destin,_

_Florida._

"What are you all doing here?" Thranduil asked.

"Círdan called us here." Jason said. "He told us a cruise ship was waiting for us." He looked at him. "We heard. Miranda had sent word ahead."

Thranduil fell silent.

"It wasn't your fault she was there."

"No, but it was my fault that I befriended her father in the first place." Thranduil said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. "She would not have been there if I had done that." Then, unable to pursue the subject any longer, he asked. "Riley and his family?"

"They are here."

"How did you manage that?"

"It took a little persuasion. They think it is for their safety. I do not know how far I can keep that delusion."

Thranduil touched the ends of his hair, pulled in a band tied at the nape of his neck. His hair had grown long, beyond his shoulders. He imagined he would look changed with it, more regal and less the detective. He felt different, he was sure.

"Who else is here?"

"Your family, Thorontur, Fion, Dorián…" Jason said, ticking it off on his fingers. "Listen, I would love to chit chat, but your face is everywhere with Dawn's story. I would hate to get you recognized just yet. Let's get on the ship and we will talk."

oOo

_Aeglos,_

_Pacific Ocean,_

"So where are we going?" Thranduil asked.

"I do not know." Jason answered. "Círdan only sent a message that the ship will take us where we need to go."

"Splendid," Thranduil muttered. Then he spotted Riley coming up to the deck. Grabbing Jason, the pair of them ducked to safety.

"You should speak to him."

"Not yet," he may know that Dawn was well, but he was not ready to speak of her just yet. The hurt was too close and Riley was not going to take it kindly.

"You are scared."

"Of course I am." Thranduil retorted. He placed his hand in his pocket and fingered the bead bracelet.

"Take it one step at a time then."

"One step at a time… excellent idea."

"What are you-"

But Thranduil turned and walked away. Jason shook his head and looked up. "Elves are insane." He told the skies.

Thranduil made his way to his cabin, calling for Fion, Thorontur, Dorián and Legolas to meet him there. Arodien was already in his cabin.

"What is wrong?" Fion asked.

"Oh I will tell you what is wrong." Thranduil said. "You are all hiding something from me."

"Father, we are not-"

"Do not lie, boy. You know I do not take it kindly."

"I couldn't stop thinking about that laptop you gave Jason." Thranduil said. "You said you found it in an enemy hideout."

"But we did-"

"Of course, you did." Thranduil's voice was dripping in sarcasm. "But the question is how you did? And how was it even possible? The enemy is always one step ahead. So how could it be possible that the lot of you stumbled upon this one laptop which the enemy supposedly just left lying around."

Thranduil's piercing gray eyes were difficult to make eye contact with.

"Somebody gave you that laptop." Thranduil spoke. "Somebody handed it over. And we just found the necessary details. And just before that, somebody tried to shut down the murder case. And then somebody tried to help Dave in Ukraine… and you lot know who that someone is."

"Father, we were just trying to do what we thought was right."

"Enough with your excuses," Legolas lived long enough to recognize Thranduil's father voice and king's voice. The sting and the steel in his voice made him realize Thranduil was speaking as a king. "I never enjoyed keeping in the dark and I do not enjoy it now. The very people whom I should be trusting-"

"We are trustworthy," Fion protested.

"Did you say something, Commander?"

"Nothing."

"I did not think so. The very people I should be trusting decide to hold back an important detail from me. I have never been this disappointed in any of you." Thranduil felt a noticeable shift in ship. She was turning. Strange, Thranduil thought with a frown.

"I will speak to you all later." He announced. Arodien looked calm, though a bit tense and he realized she too knew something. He scowled and got up, shaking her hand from his wrist.

After he left, the rest of them were silent.

"I told you, you should have spoken to him earlier before it was too late." Arodien said quietly to her son.

"And how exactly was I supposed to do that?" Legolas answered.

"You had so many months to do so!" Arodien replied.

"He hasn't taken this well."

"He hasn't? Of course he has not! But you do not realize the seriousness of this! He needs people around him he could trust but we have kept things from him. How will he be able to trust us in the future?" Arodien sighed. Fion took pity on the Queen.

"My lady, it is not you who should lose his trust. You were the one who told us from the beginning not to delay telling him. The blame lies wholly on us."

"Pray that he forgives us quickly. There is much to do still."

oOo

_Aeglos,_

_Pacific Ocean_

He found Jason standing there on the main deck with a woman he remembered as Alice.

"Alice!" Jason said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just came up from the lower level." Alice said brightly.

"What are you here for?"

"Oh," Alice, if possible, gave an even brighter smile. "I am taking over the ship."

The Elves working did not even turn their heads to her declaration, something Thranduil found very strange.

"What!"

"You are all my captives from here on." With that Alice turned away. "Take the ship north and let it sail."

"This is preposterous." Jason said baffled. "I wouldn't get through with this!"

Suddenly, Alice turned around; the sound of her gun slipping out of its cover as she smoothly pointed it towards Thranduil's forehead. Other Elves that had been in the ship's crew moved with her, pointing their guns at various members and stilling all protests and movements. Húro awoke but it was curiously not as violent as he supposed it would. It was just as well. He needed is wits about him.

"I wasn't giving you a choice." She said grimly.

* * *

**END OF TEMPEST: MODERN AGE.**

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Do leave a review!


	19. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

Tempest: Modern Age is hereby completed.

Tempest: Stronghold is also completed and can be found in my stories.

Tempest: Prophecy can also be found in my stories and is currently being updated.

On another news, my laptop is finally repaired! I am back in business in writing and updating. :)


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